Until the Very End
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: They were safe at the prison, or so they thought. Eight months after the War of Woodbury, survivors have settled in the prison. Then, a flu that kills quick arrives, two people are killed, and the Governor returns for revenge. All will fight, some will fall. In the aftermath, survivors begin to make their way to Terminus, a supposed safe haven. But is it really all that safe?
1. Prologue: TS-19

**Sorry about the super long prologue. When I was writing it, I didn't think it would be this long.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead, _or any of its characters. I only own my OC, Clary Dixon.**

* * *

The light dies down, and we enter, weapons raised. "Dixon, cover the back," Shane commands.

Daryl and I back in, making sure no walkers follow us. "Hello?" Rick calls. "Hello?"

"Close those doors," Dale tells my brother and I. "Watch for walkers."

Daryl keeps his crossbow raised while I make my way forward, then pull the doors shut. Daryl and I turn back towards the group, and find that we're in a large, spacious lobby. The CDC's lobby. "Hello?" Rick calls again.

A gun suddenly cocks, and those carrying raise their weapons towards the sound. There's a man standing there in sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, holding a machine gun. He looks to be in his mid-forties, and has blonde hair. "Anybody infected?" he calls.

"One of our group was," Rick answers. "He didn't make it."

The man takes a step closer. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"A chance," Rick tells him.

"That's asking an awful lot these days." His words ring true. Nowadays, having a chance is like winning the lottery before. In other words, nearly impossible.

"I know," Rick says as the man takes a couple steps closer.

The man looks around at our group. Some have faces of hope, some of grief, and others, like myself, are impossible to read. "You all submit to a blood test," the man says. "That's the price of admission."

"We can do that," Rick confirms.

The man drops his gun. "You got stuff to bring in, you do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed."

A few of us look at each other, then run outside, back to the vehicles. We grab the bags, and run back inside. T-Dog and Dale hold the doors open for us, then close them once we're all in. The man, a scientist, slides his card through a device on the wall, then says, "Vi, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here."

The metal doors close, and the lights go out. Rick faces the scientist. "Rick Grimes."

"Dr. Edwin Jenner," the scientist replies. He leads us to a large elevator, and we all pile in. We're silent as the elevator goes down, and Daryl breaks it by saying, "Doctors always go around packing heat like that?"

"There were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself," Jenner answers. "But you look harmless enough." He looks down at Carl. "Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you."

Jenner chuckles at his own joke, while Carl looks at me. I give him a small smile that he returns, and the elevator stops. Jenner leads us down a corridor, where the only sound is the echo of footsteps coming from the other members of the group. Daryl and I tread lightly, a habit picked up from hunting that serves us well in this world. "Are we underground?" Carol inquires.

"Are you claustrophobic?" Jenner replies, answering her question with a question.

"A little."

"Try not to think about it," Jenner recommends. We enter a large room with computers, a research lab. "Vi, bring up the lights in the big room."

There's a humming and beeping as the lights in the big room, as Jenner put it, come on, revealing empty workstations. "Welcome to Zone 5," Jenner says, leading us down the ramp to the ground.

"Where is everybody?" Rick inquires. "The other doctors, the staff?"

"I'm it. It's just me here. I'm the only one left."

"What about the person you were speaking with?" Lori inquires. "Vi?"

"Vi, say hello to our guests," the last scientist says. "Tell them… welcome."

"Hello, guests. Welcome," a computer voice says.

"I'm all that's left," Jenner repeats. "I'm sorry."

* * *

"What's the point?" Andrea inquires as Jenner draws some of her blood. "If we were infected, we'd all be running a fever."

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you in here," Jenner replies. "Let me just at least be thorough." Jenner pulls the syringe away from her arm. "All done." Andrea stands, and sways on her feet. Jacqui moves to help steady her as the last scientist says, "Are you okay?"

Andrea nods, and Jacqui says, "She hasn't eaten in days. None of us have."

* * *

Later on, we all sit around a table in a break room, laughing and eating. I chuckle as Dale continues to try to persuade Lori into letting Carl drink wine for the first time. "You know, in Italy," Dale says, "children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France."

"Mm," Lori says, as if impressed by the fact. "And when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then."

"Oh, come on," Rick says to her. "What's it gonna hurt?"

"Oh, look at you, Officer Friendly," I say. "Encouragin' under-age drinking. Good for you." I bring my hands together in a quick clap. "Two claps for you."

"Well, why don't you have some, too," Dale says, shooting a glance at Daryl.

"Don't gotta ask for my blessin'," Daryl says. "I was drinking' when I was her age. But, if my baby sister's havin' her first drink, it ain't gonna be some wine shit."

So, while Carl gets a glass of wine, I get a glass of whiskey. I take a drink of it, screwing my nose up at the taste. It's not as bad as I expected. Carl tastes his wine, and immediately sets the glass down, shaking his head in disgust. "Eww," he says.

That gets a laugh from everyone, while I grin at him over the rim of my glass, taking another drink. "Showoff," he says, wiping his mouth with his hand.

"Thank you, Grimes," I say simply.

"Dixon."

"City boy."

"Hillbilly."

"Ooh, you've gone too far," I say, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

"Still don't see how you can drink that," he says.

"Here, I guarantee you'll like it better," I tell him, walking around the table to give him my glass. He takes a drink from it, then screws up his nose at the taste.

"Better than the wine," he announces. "But still no."

"That's my boy," Lori says, while the others laugh at our bickering. Carl hands the glass back over to me and I walk back over to lean on a table beside Daryl. Lori pours the rest of Carl's wine into her cup.

"Just stick to soda-pop, bud," Shane suggests.

"Not you, Glenn," Daryl says, looking at him from across the room. "Keep drinkin', little man. I wanna see how red your face can get."

We all laugh, and I raise my glass, saying, "I'll drink to that."

Daryl swings his arm around my neck, ruffling my hair. "That's my baby sis."

"Get off," I say, but laugh.

Rick clinks his knife against his glass, and we all quiet down. He stands, saying, "It seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly."

"He is more than just our host," T-Dog says, raising his glass.

"Hear, hear," Dale says, raising his glass, and we all follow his lead.

"Here's to ya, Doc," my brother says, raising his whiskey bottle. "Booyah!"

This sends up an echo of "Booyah!" and I raise my glass, saying, "Hells yeah. Here's to ya."

Rick looks at Jenner, thanking him properly, and the doctor raises his glass in reply. Shane ruins our good mood by saying, "So when you gonna tell us what the hell happened here, Doc?"

"Way to kill the mood, ass-hat," I snap, glaring at him.

"All the other doctors that were supposed to be figuring out what happened," Shane continues as if I didn't speak. "Where are they?"

"We're celebrating, Shane," Rick tells him, his voice full of warning. "Don't need to do this now."

"Whoa, wait a second. This is why we're here, isn't it?" Shane asks, clearly challenging Rick. "This was your move, wasn't it? To come here and find all the answers. Instead, we find him. We found one man. Why?"

Jenner is quick to oblige. "Well, when things got bad, a lot of people left. They went to be with their families. And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."

"Every last one?" Shane questions.

Jenner is a bit more hesitant this time, but when he does, he looks at Shane and says rather harshly, "No. Many couldn't face walking out that door. They... opted out. There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."

"You didn't leave," Andrea says, stating the obvious. _No shit, Sherlock, _I think. "Why?"

"I just kept working," he tells us. "Hoping to do some good."

"Dude, you are such a buzzkill, man," Glenn says, and I raise my glass in agreement.

* * *

Jenner leads us through a corridor, telling us what we need to know about the CDC. "Most of the facility is powered down, including housing, so you'll have to make do here," he says. "The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like. There's a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy. Just don't plug in the video games, or anything that draws power. The same applies—" he looks over his shoulder at the adults "—if you shower, go easy on the hot water."

With that, the doctor walks off, and Glenn turns around, looking at us. "Hot water?"

"That's what the man said," T-Dog says, grinning.

"Where the hell is the nearest shower?" I ask. We all take off into different rooms, Daryl and I taking one on the end. We drop our duffle bags off on the couch, and I open my mouth to say I call the shower when my brother disappears into the bathroom. "Hey, I was gonna call the bathroom," I say.

"Relax, I'll be five minutes," comes his reply. I plop down on the couch, digging out my clothes and shampoo from my bag. Five minutes later, Daryl walks out of the bathroom, his hair wet, and I walk in. The hot water is the best thing I've felt in the weeks since the beginning of the outbreak.

"Oh my god," I sigh, letting the hot water run down over my body. I run my hands through my newly cleaned hair, pushing the water off my face and letting more fall on it. I finish my shower, but stand under the running hot water for at least another minute. "Jesus Christ, that's amazing," I mutter to myself.

I reluctantly shut the water off, not wanting to step out from the warm stream, but I climb out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself. I start to get dressed, and I actually get a good look at myself in the mirror. I'm so thin I can actually count my ribs. There's not much to eat in the apocalypse, and I'm a perfect example of it. But I really don't mind. I run off of adrenaline rather than food, so I gladly give up my food to my group. To my friends.

I finish getting dressed, pulling on cut off shorts and a shirt Daryl gave me not long ago. I walk out of the room and nearly walk into Shane, who ignores me and continues to his room with a friend named Jim Bean. I somehow wind up in the rec room, where Carl and Sophia play checkers (Carl letting Sophia win), and Carol browses books in the small library. "Knock knock," I say, announcing my presence.

Sophia and Carl look up, the latter grinning, and Carol leans out from behind a shelf to see me. "Anything good?" I inquire.

"A couple things," she says quietly. Despite me being friends with her daughter, Carol is rather shy around both my brother and I. "Some classics, among other things. Also, books with titles I can't pronounce." I smirk at that. "There's _War of the Worlds_, H. G. Wells. _Gone with the Wind_, Margaret Mitchell. _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea_, Jules Verne. _The Outsiders_, S. E. Hinton. I think there's also Harry Potter. _The Hunger Games_. I think you'd like that one, Katniss."

"'Yer a wizard, Harry,'" I say in an imitation of Hagrid's voice, causing Sophia to laugh. "And did you really just say that?"

"I'm sorry," Carol says. "I didn't mean to insult you."

"Insult me? Are you kidding? That was brilliant." Carol smiles at me, and I say, "Sorry, but did you say _The Outsiders_?"

"Yep," Carol replies, pulling a copy off the shelf.

I take it from her, saying, "It's my favorite book."

"We read that in school last year," Carl says. "I like Ponyboy."

"'Stay gold, Ponyboy,'" I say, looking over at him. "'Stay gold.'"

"Now that's just mean," Sophia giggles.

I look over at her. "Who do you like then?"

"Two-Bit. You remind me of Two-Bit, Clary. Is he your favorite?" I shake my head, causing Sophia to ask, "Who?"

"Johnny," I tell them.

"Johnny?" Carl repeats. "Why?"

"I don't know, just do," I say, slightly defensively. I don't want to tell them that Johnny and I are alike in too many ways. I don't want them to know who I really am. I leave the rec room, book in my hand. I turn when I hear a voice coming from a room I just passed. "Don't make me drink alone," Glenn says. "Or are you just gonna sit and read?"

He holds a full bottle of whiskey. I consider it for a moment before following him into his room; he could be a dick when he's drunk, like my dad was. But Glenn doesn't strike me as that kind of person. When I enter, he closes the door behind me, and then plops down in the middle of the room. He pats the floor across from him, and I sit, my legs crossed. Glenn sits the bottle of whiskey between the two of us after opening it. "You, me, a bottle of whiskey, and I Never," Glenn says.

I crease my eyebrows. "What's I Never?"

"What are you, a hermit? You've never heard of I Never?"

"I have friends."

"A hermit with friends?"

"Hermits united. We get together every few years and talk about caves. It's quite fun, for a hermit."

"You are so odd, Clarissa Dixon," he says with a smile.

"Thank you, Glenn Rhee," I say. "So, how do you play?"

"It's simple, you say 'I never' and then you finish the sentence. If it's something you did you drink, if it's something you never did, you don't drink."

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"Learn by example. I never shot a crossbow. Now you drink because you've shot a crossbow. Your turn."

"I never been mistaken for Chinese."

Glenn drinks. "I never gave anyone a nickname based on their race."

"C'mon, Short Round's awesome," I say, taking a drink. "Wait, do I have to take a drink for each time I've called you Short Round?"

"I'm not gonna make you. You'd drink half the bottle."

"I haven't called you Short Round that much! Jerk."

"Jackass," Glenn replies. And so, for the next hour or two, Glenn and I nurse a bottle of whiskey while playing a drinking game that results in hilarious revelations, and secrets not to be shared. By the time the first bottle is nearly empty, Glenn has retrieved a second one. We continue the game until Glenn comes very close to passing out, at which I take the bottle and he lies down on the couch. I laugh at him as I leave the room, book in one hand and bottle of booze in the other.

I enter the room I share with Daryl, and the first thing I see is him asleep on the floor. He must've drank so much that he became what he calls "shit-faced drunk." I place a pillow under my brother's head and a blanket over him. I've done it before, when he fell asleep on the couch. He looks younger, more peaceful, and not the troubled, abused man that I know he is. I like seeing him when he's asleep. I can almost forget about everything that we've been through.

I plop down on the couch, finishing the mostly empty bottle before falling asleep.

* * *

When I wake, I'm still on the couch, but there's a blanket draped over me and the empty bottle is gone. I have a splitting headache, like I expected. Daryl isn't in the room. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. The door to the bathroom opens, and Daryl steps out. His hair is wet from the shower, and a towel is wrapped around him. "Mornin', Drinkin' Beauty," he says, a grin on his face. "Not bad for a first timer."

"Shut up," I groan, rubbing my temples, which causes my brother to laugh. Instead of speaking, I flip him off. I get a shower while my brother gets dressed, putting my long, wet hair into a braid. I walk out of the room to leave for breakfast since Daryl already left, and Carl looks up when I enter. "Are you hungover?" Carl asks when I pass him.

"You are like Two-Bit," Sophia giggles. Instead of responding, I hit Carl in the back of the head and glare at Sophia. I sit down next to Glenn, who has his head in his hands, moaning. I rub his shoulder, knowing how he feels. Actually, I probably don't, seeing he drank enough to be double shit-faced drunk. As it turns out, he has done many of the things I mentioned. Daryl comes over and sits next to me as Rick enters. "Are you hungover?" he asks his father. "Mom said you'd be."

"Mom is right," Rick replies, sitting down.

"Mom has that annoying habit," Lori says with a chuckle. I lay my forehead on Glenn's bicep, putting my arm around his shoulders.

"Eggs," T-Dog announces. "Powdered, but I do 'em good. I bet you can't tell. Protein helps the hangover."

He says the last bit as he scrapes some of the eggs onto Glenn's plate. The Korean lets out another moan, one rather close to a walker's. "Where did all this come from?" Rick inquires, and I glance up to see him holding a bottle full of tylenol. He hands it to his wife after failing to open it. "Could you help, please?"

"Jenner," she replies, taking the bottle. "He thought we could use it."

"Thank you. Some of us, at least."

"Don't ever ever ever let me drink again," Glenn moans from beside me.

"It was your idea, Short Round," I tell him. He simply pushed a glass towards me in response, this one full of orange juice. "I take back my choice. Get to drinking, Willie Scott."

"Not gonna happen," I tell him, pulling away and picking up a fork to eat some of T-Dog's eggs. Shane enters, announcing his presence with a "Hey."

"Hey," Rick says back. "You feel as bad as I do?"

"Worse," the officer replies.

"The hell happened to you?" T-Dog inquires. "Your neck?"

I look up as Shane sits down. He has three scratches running down the left side of his neck. "Must've done it in my sleep," Shane says.

"Never seen you do that before," Rick says.

"Me neither," our former leader replies. I don't miss the look he shoots at Lori. "Not like me at all."

"Morning," Jenner greets, arriving in the break room. He is greeted by a chorus of "Hey, Doc" and "Good morning, Doc." I, on the other hand, greet him with a "What's up, Doc?"

"The sky," he replies, looking down at me as he passes on his way to coffee machine.

"Doctor, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing," Dale starts, but Jenner cuts him off.

"But you will anyway," Jenner says.

"We didn't come here for the eggs," Andrea says.

And with that, we quickly finish our breakfast before following Jenner into Zone 5. "Vi," he says as he walks to a work station. "Give me playback of TS-19."

Vi repeated the command as the computer program brought up a video on the big screen. "Few people ever got a chance to see this," Jenner informs us. "Very few."

On the screen, a blue light flashes as the playback loads, one looking like it could be a brain. Carl must be thinking the same thing, because he asks, "Is that a brain?"

"An extraordinary one," Jenner answers. "Not that it matters in the end. Vi, take us in for E.I.V."

"Enhanced internal view," Vi repeats, zooming in on the brain. Lights flash through the brain, going from one place to another. "What are those lights?" Shane asks.

"It's a person's life," Jenner informs us, as if he's teaching a class. "Experiences, memories. It's everything. Somewhere in all that organic wiring, all those ripples of light, is you. The thing that makes you unique. And human."

"You don't make sense ever?" Daryl inquires.

"It's what makes you, well, you," I say, looking over my shoulder at my brother. "Those ripples of light are what makes you human."

"That's correct," Jenner says. "Those are synapses. Electric impulses in the brain that carry all the messages. They determine everything a person says or does or thinks from the moment of birth, to the moment of death."

"Death?" Rick inquires. "That's what this is, a vigil?"

"Yes. Or rather the playback of a vigil."

"This person died?" Andrea says. "Who?"

"Someone who was bitten and infected, and volunteered to have us record the process."

"TS-19," I say. "Test Subject 19. That's what it means, doesn't it?"

Jenner gives a nod without even looking at me. "Vi, scan forward to the first event."

Vi scans forward to the first event, zooming out from to brain. A blackness has started to overcome the synapses, filling up at least thirty percent of TS-19's brain. "What is that?" Glenn inquires.

"It invades the brain like meningitis. The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shutdown. And then, the major organs. Then death." The brain goes completely dark. "Everything you ever where or will be… gone."

Andrea lowers her head, clearly thinking of her sister. "Is that what happened to Jim?" Sophia asks her mother.

"Yes," Carol tells her.

Andrea sniffs, wiping her eyes, causing Jenner to turn around and look at her. "She lost somebody two days ago," Lori tells him. "Her sister."

Jenner walks over and tells her, "I lost someone, too. I know how devastating it is."

I feel Daryl's hands on my shoulders, and lean back into my chair to look up at him. It goes unspoken between us: _That's what happened to Sam. _

"Scan to second event," Jenner commands. "The resurrection times vary widely. We had reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute, and seven seconds."

A small red light flickers in the back of the patient's head, then grows. "It restarts the brain?" Lori inquires.

"No, just the brain stem. Basically, it gets them up and moving."

"But they're not alive?" Rick questions.

Jenner turns to face him, gesturing to the screen. "You tell me."

"It's nothing like before," Rick says. "Most of that brain is dark."

"Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobe, the neocortex, the human part—that doesn't come back. The _you_ part. Just a shell, driven by mindless instinct."

A flash appeared on the screen, followed by what looked like a bullet cutting through the patient's head. "God," Carol says. "What was that?"

"He shot his patient in the head," Andrea says. "Didn't you?"

"Vi, power down the main screen and work stations," Jenner says instead of answering.

"So, they're somewhat alive," I say. "But they ain't human. They're empty of everything we have. A conscience, a soul. Thoughts. They're just a moving body, fueled by the instinct for food. Fueled by hunger. They're alive, but just enough to move and feed. A better term for them would be the walking dead."

"If you want to look at it that way," Jenner says.

"You ain't got an idea 'bout what it is, do you?"

"It could be microbial, viral, parasitic, fungal."

"Or the wrath of God?" Jacqui interjects.

"There's also that," Jenner tells her.

"Somebody must know something," Andrea says. "Somebody somewhere."

"There are others, right?" Carol inquires. "Other facilities?"

"There may be some," Jenner informs us. "People like me."

"But you don't know? How can you not know?" Rick asks.

"Everything went down. Communications, directives. All of it. I've been in the dark for almost a month."

"So it's not just here," Andrea states. "There's nothing left anywhere? Nothing? That's what you're really saying, right?"

Jenner says nothing. "Jesus Christ," I mutter.

"Man, I'm gonna get shit-faced drunk again," Daryl says.

"Doctor Jenner, I know this has been taxing for you and I hate to as one more question," Dale says, speaking for the first time since coming into Zone 5. "But, I do have one. That clock." He points to a clock on the wall. "It's counting down. What happens when it reaches zero?"

"The," Jenner hesitates, obviously trying to come up with a good excuse. "The basement generators, they run out of fuel."

"Tell the truth," I say. "What really happens at zero, Jenner?" He doesn't answer, so I turn to the screen. "Vi, what happens when the power runs out?"

"When the power runs out, facility wide decontamination will occur," Vi answers.

* * *

I follow Glenn, Rick, Shane, and T-Dog down the steps to the basement, Rick in the lead with a flashlight. The lights flicker on as we walk down the steps. "Decontamination? What does that mean?" Glenn inquires.

"I don't know," I say. "But I don't think it's good. Didn't you see how Jenner clammed up?"

"Yeah," Shane agrees. "I don't like that. And the way he just wandered off."

"What's wrong with him?" T-Dog asks. "Seriously, man, is he nuts, medicated, what?"

Rick points down a hall, and we follow him down it. We enter the basement, lights flicking on as we do so. Rick sends Glenn, T-Dog, and I in one direction, and him and Shane in another. All we find are dead generators and empty fuel drums. Suddenly, the lights go out, then faint ones come on. "Hey, who turned out the lights?" I call.

Glenn, T-Dog, and I meet up with Rick and Shane. "Did one of you guys kill the lights?" the Korean asks.

"No. What'd you guys find?" Rick replies.

"Dead generators and more empty fuel drums than I can count," T-Dog answers. We hurry back up the stairs, and when we enter Zone 5, I can hear Daryl interrogating Jenner about the lights. "Rick?" Lori calls.

"Jenner, what's happening?" our leader asks.

"The building is shutting itself down, dropping all the nonessential uses of power. It's designed to keep the computers running to the last possible second. It started as we approached the half hour mark," Jenner says. He looks up at the clock, which is nearing thirty. "Right on schedule." Daryl takes the bottle of whiskey from Jenner's hands, spilling some on the floor. The doctor looks at us, then says, "It was the French. They lasted the longest, as far as I know. They stayed in the labs 'til the end. They thought they were close to the solution."

"What happened?" Jacqui asks.

"It's the same thing that's happening here, isn't it?" I ask. "Facility wide decontamination, whatever the hell that means."

"No power grid," Jenner says. "Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel. How stupid is that?"

Shane starts to go after him, but Rick stops him. He turns to his wife and son, telling them to get their things. He tell the same to rest of us. As soon as he says it, an alarm starts blaring. "The hell is that?" Daryl exclaims, standing next to me as we head to our room. "Doc, what's going on here?"

The doors suddenly close before we can go anywhere. "The hell are you doing?" I exclaim.

"Did he just lock us in?" Glenn asks, then exclaims. "He locked us in!"

"You son of a bitch!" Daryl shouts, dropping the bottle as he starts forward. "You son of a bitch!"

"Shane!" I shout, seeing as he's the closest to my brother and strong enough to stop him. The officer pulls my brother away from the doctor, as T-Dog and I run down. I push Daryl back, who is fighting against Shane, as T-Dog shouts for him to stop. Rick walks down, a look in his eyes I've never seen before. "Jenner, open that door now," Rick commands.

"There's no point," Jenner tells us. "Everything topside is locked down. The emergency exits are sealed."

"Then open the damn things!" Daryl shouts.

"That's not something I control. The computers do. I told you once that front door is closed, it wouldn't open again. You heard me say that." Jenner pauses a moment. "It's better this way."

"What is?" Rick inquires. "What happens in twenty-eight minutes?"

Jenner doesn't answer, so Daryl shouts, "What happens in twenty-eight minutes!"

"You know what this place is?" Jenner exclaims, standing to face us. "We protected the public from very nasty stuff!"

"You're doin' a pretty shitty job of it now!" I shout.

"We prevented things from getting out! Things that you didn't want to see, ever!"

"Do you think we wanted to see this shit! Most of us lost our family or our friends! You did a helluva job of not letting this get out!"

Daryl places a hand on my arm, pulling me back, as Jenner composes himself. "In the event of a power failure, a catastrophic one, H.I.T.'s are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"H.I.T.'s?" Rick questions.

"Vi, define."

Vi launches into a long description, and I don't understand most of it. Other than the only thing equivalent to the power of a H.I.T. is a nuclear bomb. "Jenner, what does that mean?" Daryl inquires.

"It sets the air on fire," he says simply. "No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret. Everything."

I reach behind me for Daryl's hand, but I find he has left me. I turn to see that he's at the door, kicking it and trying to get it to open. "OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!" he shouts at Jenner.

"Out of my way!" Shane shouts, running up to the door with an axe. T-Dog throws one to Daryl, who joins Shane in trying to bust the door open. I sit on top one of the workstations, counting down the seconds until our deaths. Jenner talks to the women who sit on the ground, Carl and Sophia in between their mothers. I look over at Shane, who has come down from the door. "Can't make a dent," he tells Rick and I.

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher," Jenner informs us.

"Your head ain't!" Daryl exclaims, coming down from the door with his axe.

"Whoa!" Rick exclaims, as he and Dale move to stop my brother. I wrestle the axe from his hands, saying, "Put it down, Daryl! Put it down!"

"You do want this," Jenner says. "Last night, you said it was only a matter of time before everyone you loved was dead."

"You really said that?" Shane inquires. "After all your big talk?"

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" Rick says to Lori.

"There is no hope," Jenner says. "There is no hope for any of us."

"You're wrong," I say. "Jenner, you're wrong. There's always hope. Maybe it won't be you, maybe not here, but there is someone, somewhere, that still has—"

"What part of everything is gone don't you understand?" Andrea says. Jenner agrees with her, believing that this is "our extinction event."

"This isn't right," Carol says, her voice shaking from crying. "You can't just keep us here."

"One tiny moment," Jenner says, leaning forward in his chair. "A millisecond. No pain."

"My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this!"

Jenner continues trying to persuade us to stop trying, but Shane isn't having it. He cocks a gun, putting the end of the barrel in Jenner's face. "Open the door," he threatens. "Or I'm gonna blow your head off."

Rick tries to tell Shane that if he does this, then we'll never get out of the CDC. Rick wrestles the gun from Shane, but not after the latter shoots some computers. Our leader hands the gun to T-Dog, and continues trying to get Jenner to open the door, but takes a very different path. He asks Jenner about why he stayed when others ran or opted out. As it turns out, he stayed because he made a promise to Test Subject 19, his wife. He explains to us why he stayed, the promise he made, as Daryl goes back to pounding on the door.

"Your wife wanted you to go as long as you could, right?" I say. "That's what we want to do. We want to go out there and go as long as we can. Try as hard as we can. We want to try to _live_ as long as we can. It's what your wife wanted you to do. So c'mon, give us our chance."

Jenner is quiet for a moment, then says, "I told you, topside's locked down. I can't open those."

He walks over to a desk and swipes his card. The doors open. "C'mon!" Daryl calls. "Let's go!"

We run up the ramp to the door and out into the corridor. Rick and Jenner say their goodbyes, Jenner whispering something to Rick's ear. "C'mon, we got four minutes!" Glenn shouts.

T-Dog tries to pull Jacqui up the ramp with him, but she has decided that she wants to stay. We run to our rooms as fast as we can, getting our bags. Andrea decides to stay behind, but Dale tries to persuade her not to. He waves us on, and we reach the lobby within a minute. The doors won't open when we get up there, so Shane and Daryl try to open the windows with the axes. All it does is scratch the glass. It doesn't cut it, doesn't break it, just scratches it. T-Dog tries to use a chair to bust it open.

"Outta the way, boys," I say, putting a clip in a handgun. Shane, Daryl, and T-Dog jump down from the windows, and I unload half a clip into the window, but it's useless. "Dammit!"

"The glass won't break?" Sophia questions. Carol starts forward, digging in her bag. "Rick, I have something that might help."

"Carol, I don't think a nail file's gonna go it," Shane says.

Instead of producing a nail file, she produces a grenade. "Holy shit, Carol's packing heat!" I say.

"The first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket," she says, handing it to Rick. We all dive for cover as Rick pulls the pin and sets it by the window. He runs for cover, and the blast throws him into the air. But the window shatters.

We run out of the CDC, killing walkers that stumble towards us after being drawn out by the blast. The group hurries to our cars, Daryl and I climbing in his beat up Ford truck as fast as we can. "Daryl," I say, seeing two people exit the building. "They made it. Andrea and Dale."

Rick suddenly blows the horn of the RV, and Lori yells for Dale and Andrea to get down. Daryl and I duck down in truck, him covering me, as the CDC explodes. Even though we're far away, I can still feel the heat from it. Jacqui and Jenner are dead, and the rest of us are still alive for another day.


	2. 30 Days Without an Accident

As Daryl and I walk into the dining area, we're greeted by a chorus of "Morning, Daryl" and "Morning, Clary." We glance at each other, then at Carol, who stands behind the barbeque. "Smells good," my brother tells her.

"Just so you know, I liked you first," Carol says. She looks over at me. "And Carl liked you first."

"Stop," Daryl says, as I say, "Shut up."

I take a piece of bacon from Daryl's bowl, as he says, "You know, Rick brought in a lot of them, too."

"Not recently," Carol replies. "Give a stranger sanctuary, keeping people fed, you're going to have to learn to live with the love. Both of you."

"Ain't about that life," I say.

"I need you two to see something." Carol turns to Patrick, who stands on the opposite side of the grill. "Want to take over?"

"Yes, ma'am," Patrick, a kid about two years older than me, replies eagerly. We turn to walk away, but Patrick stops us. "Uh, Mr. Dixon. I just wanted to thank you for bringing that deer back yesterday. It was a real treat, sir, and I'd be honored to shake your hand."

Carol gives my brother a smug smile, and Daryl looks at Patrick. He cleans off his fingers by licking them, then shakes Patrick's hand. Carol and Daryl walk off, while I remain, seeing Patrick grinning. "Quit fangirling, Patrick," I say. "And don't be so formal, my god."

I walk away to go find my brother and Carol, and catch just the tail end of a conversation. "It's manageable, but unless we get ahead of it, not for long," Carol says, then looks at Daryl. "Sorry, pookie."

Daryl scoffs, elbowing her, while I grin, finding something that I can use against him later. Since we've been at the prison, it feels as though we're safer. It lets us relax, and with that, comes joking and teasing. Daryl passes me as he walks away, and I take another piece of bacon from his bowl. "You heard nothing," he growls.

"What?" I ask with a mischievous grin. I walk over to Carol, and ask, "So what's the problem, Mrs. Dixon?"

"Stop," Carol says, blushing, then gestures out to the fences, where walkers crowd, trying to get in. "It's getting as bad as last month. They don't spread out anymore. There are dozens more towards Tower Three. I don't think we're going to be able to spare a lot of people for the run today."

"The more of us that are in here, it draws more of them out." I look down at the walkers. "They start clinging to the fences, they start herding up. Damn." I look back over at Carol. "Well, you know Daryl and I. We'll make it work."

* * *

Daryl finishes loading everything into the truck bed as I make sure our two motorcycles are filled with gas. Zach, a boy that Daryl brought to the prison about a few months back, tells Beth, his girlfriend, that he's going on the run. They have a short conversation, and Beth starts to walk away. "Okay, aren't you going to say goodbye?" Zach calls after her.

"Nope," she replies.

"It's like a damn romance novel," Daryl says, putting a crate in the truck bed.

"Yeah, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, pookie?" I say, putting a second crate in.

"Shut up."

I grin at him, then look up as Bob approaches, a prison newcomer. "Hey," he says. "I'd like to start pulling my weight around here."

"Bob, it's only been a week," Sasha tells him.

"That's a week worth of meals. A roof over my head. Let me earn my keep."

"You were out on your own when Daryl found you. I just want to make sure that you know how to play on a team."

"We ain't gonna do it unless it's easy," Daryl says.

"You know, he was a medic in the Army," Glenn chimes in.

"Oh, a regular old John Watson, huh," I say, while Sasha continues to look at him doubtfully.

"You're a hell of a tough sell, you know that?" Bob tells her.

"Okay," she gives. Daryl and I lead the way down the path in the field, and stop when we see Michonne standing with Rick. "Well, look who's back," Daryl says.

"I didn't find him," she tells us, referring to the Governor. Ever since he caused the death of Andrea, who Michonne grew close to, she's been hunting him down.

"Glad to see you in one piece, 'chonne," I tell her.

"I'm thinking of looking over near Macon."

I ball my fist, my nails digging into my palm at the name Macon. I don't exactly have good memories with it, though it is where I met Glenn. Daryl and Rick share a look, while I look at Michonne. "It's worth a shot," she shoots, seeing our uneasiness.

"Seventy miles of walkers," Daryl tells her. "You might run into a few unneighborly types. Is it?"

Daryl's right. It's not worth the risk. Even if Lee and his group were still there, there's still the seventy miles of walkers to go through. Not to mention unfriendly survivors.

"It's not worth it, Michonne," I say. "I know you ain't afraid to take risks, but this one's too big."

Daryl turns to Rick. "I'm gonna go check out the Big Spot. The one I was talking about, just seeing."

"Yeah, I gotta go out and check the snares," Rick replies. "I don't want to lose whatever we catch to the walkers."

"I'll go," Michonne says.

"You just got here," Carl calls.

"And I'll be back."

I give a wave to Carl, and he gives me a smile back. Rick runs to open the gate for us, and Daryl and I lead the way through.

* * *

"Army came in and put these fences up," I explain as we stand outside the Big Spot.

"They made it a place for the people to go," Clary says. "Last week, when we spotted this place, there was a bunch of walkers behind this chain link. Keeping people out like a bunch of guard dogs."

"So they all just left?" Bob says.

"Eh, not exactly. Listen."

Music plays from the opposite side of the camp.

"You drew them out," Michonne says.

"Put a boom box up there three days ago," Sasha explains. "Hooked it up to two car batteries."

"Alright, let's make a sweep," I say, stepping in through a hole in the fence. "Make sure it's safe. Grab what you can. We'll come back tomorrow with more people."

We make our way through, checking each tent for signs of walkers. When we find none, we make our way to the front of the Big Spot. I pound on the glass window, knowing the noise will draw any walkers out. "Just give it a second," I say, sitting on the ledge.

"Okay, I think I got it," Zach says, studying me.

"Got what?" Michonne inquires.

"Oh, I been trying to guess what Daryl did before the turn."

"He's been trying to guess for, like, six weeks," I say.

"I'm pacing myself. One shot a day."

"Alright, shoot."

"Well, the way you are at the prion, you being on the council, you're able to track, you're helping people, but you're still being kind of… surly. Big swing here. Homicide cop."

Michonne cracks up laughing, and I look at her. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she replies. "It makes perfect sense."

"Well, we've already got Watson," Clary says. "I guess this makes you Sherlock."

"Shut up," I say. "And you know the man's right." I look over at Zach. "Undercover."

"Come on, really?" he asks.

"Yep. I mean, I don't like to talk about it, 'cause it's a lot of heavy shit."

"Dude, come on. Really?" I look over at him. "Okay, I guess I'll just keep guessing then."

"Yeah, you keep doing that." A walker suddenly appears behind me, slamming into the glass. Clary jumps in surprise, nearly falling off her spot on the ledge. "We gonna do this, Detective?" Michonne inquires.

"Let's do it."

We open the doors, easily taking out the four walkers that were in the store. "Alright, we go in, stay in formation for the sweep," Sasha says. "After that, you all know what you're supposed to look for. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Tyreese says. "Was there ever a time that you weren't the boss of me?"

"You had a few years before I was born."

* * *

The quick sweep of the Big Spot proved that the place was empty of the dead, and we began to look around, each of us checking different sections. I walk past the baby section, and think of Judith. I smile, taking a minute to find her a toy. Kid's growing up in a prison. She needs toys to make it feel more like home. I find a teddy bear, and put it in my bag to give to her later. I'm getting ready to move on when I hear a loud crash from another part of the store. "What happened?" I hear Glenn call, beating me to it.

"Everyone's alright," comes Zach's reply. "We're over in wine and beer."

"Guys, this is no time for havin' a beer with some buddies," I call, leaving my cart behind and heading over.

"I was moving fast, man," Bob says. "I drove right into the drinks."

Tyreese replies, "Man, you lucked out. If this came down on you the wrong way…"

His voice trails off, and I arrive just a walker comes crashing down through the ceiling. I jump back to avoid being splattered with its blood, and it hangs from the ceiling, caught on something. "Yeah, uh, we should probably go now," Glenn says, appearing beside me.

"Bob's still stuck," Daryl argues. "We gotta get him out of there."

"We'll get the others," Michonne says, drawing her sword.

"Yeah, we got your back," I say, taking my crossbow off my shoulder. "Even while it's raining walkers."

"Hallelujah," Glenn mutters, pulling out his knife. Another comes down, and soon after that, it's raining walkers. We break off, hunting for walkers. Soon, it becomes apparent that this store is a lost cause, and we need to leave. I take a second to reload my crossbow, and in that second, a walker appears out of nowhere. I stumble back, and fall to the ground, the walker on top of me. I put my hands on its shoulders, trying to keep it from biting me. I struggle to push it off of me, but it's stronger than me. I hear footsteps, and I know them. "Glenn!"

A knife flashes, and disappears into the walker's head. It goes limp, and Glenn pulls it off of me. He pulls me to my feet, and we run off to find the others after I grab my crossbow. We find Daryl on top of boxes on beer, walkers crowding around him. Glenn and I finish them off, and look up through the broken roof to see a military helicopter starting to come down. "Daryl, go!" I say, pushing Glenn ahead of me.

The three of us make it over to Bob, Zach joining us along the way. Zach lifts up the shelf while Daryl and I each take one of Bob's arms, pulling him out. Zach is getting ready to follow us when he suddenly screams. I turn to see a walker biting his leg, then he falls to the floor as the walker crawls up his body to his neck. "Zach!" I exclaim.

"C'mon, we gotta go!" Daryl cries, then takes my arm and pulls me away from Zach. He keeps me beside him as we run from the story, the helicopter falling through the roof behind us.

* * *

"Guess who."

"Mm, is it Emma Watson?"

"You wish," I say, removing my hands from his eyes and kissing his cheek. "It's Clary."

He stands, and I see that he has a sleeping Judith in his arms. "Beth went to get something to eat," he explains.

"I have something for Lil Ass Kicker," I say, reaching into my bag. I pull out the teddy bear I picked up earlier. "I found this at the Big Spot. Thought she needed a bear."

"You spoil her, Clary."

"I do not. Beth spoilers her."

"That I do," Beth says, and holds out her arms for Judith. Carl passes her over, and I hand Beth the teddy bear. I follow Carl out of Cell Block C, and I ask, "Where are we going?"

"To story time," he replies. "Not my idea. My dad wanted me to go."

I follow him to the library, and we enter, keeping to the shadows. I can hear Carol reading, "'The children fastened their eyes upon their bit of candle and watched it melt slowly and pitilessly away. Saw the half inch of wick stand alone at last. Saw the feeble flame rise and fall. Climb the thin tower of smoke. Linger at its top a moment and then…'"

Carol shuts the book as Ryan Samuels, the father of Lizzie and Mika, leaves. Carl and I stand behind a bookshelf, watching. "Ma'am, should I take watch now?" Luke asks.

"Yes, Luke, you do that," Carol replies. The young boy gets up and goes to watch the door. Carl and I look at each other as Carol says, "Today, we're going to be talking about knives. How to use them, how to be safe them, and how they could save your life."

"Ma'am, may I be dismissed?" Patrick asks as Carl and I turn back to Carol and the others.

"What is it?"

"I'm not feeling very well."

"Sometimes you're gonna have to fight through it. What if you wind up out there alone? You just give up 'cause you're feeling bad?"

"No, it's just, I don't want to yack on somebody."

At that, Lizzie scoots away from him. Carol gives a nod, and Patrick gets up to leave. Carol looks back at the kids, saying, "Okay, today we're gonna learn how to hold a knife, how to stab and slash and where to aim for." She stops talking as she sees the two of us watching. "Please, don't tell your father. Or your brother."

Carl turns and walks out, while I remain. I look down at Carol, and say, "You should know that Daryl won't object. He taught me nearly everything I know before I was Luke's age." I step around the bookshelf, kneeling next to Carol and facing the kids. "One day, one way or another, a knife will save your life. Whether it's a walker or a human."

Carol watches me as I pull out my own knife, and together we begin to teach the prison kids how to use a knife.

* * *

Beth looks up as I stop outside her cell door, wondering how to tell her about Zach. "Hey," she says.

"Hi," I reply.

"What is it?"

I sigh, glancing down before looking back at her. "Zach."

"Is he dead?" Beth inquires. We both look down, me not wanting to say it and her understanding. "Okay."

I watch her as she removes the three from her "Without an Accident" sign, marking it "This workplace has gone '0' days without an accident." I keep wondering why she doesn't cry. She just lost her boyfriend, and she's not crying about it? Beth turns to me, and sees me watching. "What?"

I shrug.

"I don't cry anymore, Daryl. I'm just glad I got to know him, you know?"

I nod. "Me too."

"Are you okay?"

"Just tired of losing people is all."

She suddenly hugs me, and I flinch at the contact. I stand there awkwardly for a moment, and she rests her head on my chest. I immediately put my arm around her, forgetting for a second that it's Beth and not Clary. "I'm glad I didn't say goodbye," Beth says. "I hate goodbyes."

"Me too."

* * *

"Zach's dead?"

I nod, looking down at Carl. He sits on his bed, while I pace his cell. "It was walkers, for the most part. He was helpin' us save Bob. Walker got his leg, pulled him down. Bit his neck. There was nothin' we could do. There was a military helicopter on the roof, gettin' ready to come down. Fell down as we were runnin'. Crushed Zach."

"God," Carl says, rubbing his forehead.

"Daryl's telling Beth," I say. "I couldn't say anythin' when I say her earlier. Didn't know how."

"I don't like you going out there," Carl says. "I always worry that you're not going to make it back. That you're going to become one of them. I'm always worried that you'll end up like Zach did. Or you'll run into the Governor, and it'll happen all over again. You being kidnapped, beaten for information. That it'll be a repeat of Merle."

"Don't say his name," I snap. "Don't you mention Merle. He was trying to help us, and that bastard killed him because of it."

Carl looks down, then takes my wrist as I pass and gently pulls me over to him. He rests his hands on my hip, his forehead on my stomach. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again," he whispers.

"I have to go out there, Carl. I don't mean going out there on runs all the time. I understand why Michonne is always out there. If I didn't have so much to lose back here, I'd be out there looking for him every day. If it weren't for you, and Daryl, and Glenn, I'd be out there right now." I sit on his bed beside him. "And if I wasn't so scared that he'd attack while I'm gone."

I lean forward, lightly kissing him. Carl gently kisses me back, then pulls away. "You staying?" he inquires.

"I can," I tell him. He lies back, and I curl up beside him. He pulls his blanket over the two of us once we're settled. It's not the first night we've spent in each other's cells, and while Daryl and Rick know, they don't object. They know that we were best friends before we became a couple, and still are in some ways.

Carl lays with one arm around my shoulders, his hand playing with my hair. I rest my head on his shoulder, my arm across his chest. "Today made me realize something," Carl whispers.

I look up at him. "What?"

"Today, it made me realize that we could both die at any second." He looks down at me. "And it made me think that I should tell you before it's too late. I love you, Clarissa Dixon."

I don't even hesitate, though the words have never come out of my mouth before. "I love you, too, Carl Grimes." I kiss his hand as it brushes a piece of my hair back, then look up at him. "It's Cheyenne."

"What?''

"My real name. Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon. Daryl named me."

"You look like a Clary."

"Most of my life, I've gone by that." I yawn, resting my head on his shoulder once again. "Night, Carl."

"Night, Cheyenne."

* * *

**Guys, I don't know if you've watched the preview for the next episode (the one where they enter the Alexandria safe zone), but I have. I'm so excited. So the character Douglas from the comics is being introduced, only they've changed him to her and her new name is Deanna. I'm so excited because there's a character in my favorite show that has the same name as me.**

**All I can hear is Abraham going "Who's Deanna?"**

**So yeah I'm ready for next week to be here already.**


	3. Infected

_**~Clary~**_

As I wake, I realize the bed beside me is cold. I reach out, my fingers seeking warmth. I slowly open my eyes, and see Carl standing on the opposite side of his cell, searching for a shirt to wear. He pulls off his previous one, and tosses it in a hamper. "Mm, what a nice view to wake up to," I say.

"Do you find this—" Carl strikes a pose, "—distracting?"

I smile, saying, "Okay, Finnick." I rub my eyes, yawning. "I should get up but I really don't feel like it."

"Go back to sleep for a little while," Carl tells me. He leans over, kissing me. "I'll see you later."

"Mm hmm," I reply, starting to fall back asleep. I wake up again not long after, and head out into the common room. For those that wake up early, there's always some breakfast. Carol is one of those that are up early this morning, and she hands me a bowl of oatmeal. "I was looking for you earlier," she says as we sit down at a table. "You weren't in your cell."

"I was in Carl's," I tell her.

"Ooh," she says, raising her eyebrows.

"Shut up, Carol! Not like that."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grimes."

"Oh, this is payback for me calling you Mrs. Dixon, huh? I should've known." We eat our breakfast in silence, when suddenly there's a yell.

"Walkers in D!"

I look up from my breakfast at the yell, and abandon it, running for Cell Block D with my crossbow. Carol right behind me, we follow Daryl and Sasha out of C, Hershel locking the gates to the tombs behind us. We run out of the cell block as Glenn parrots the call. "Walkers in D!"

"What about C?" Rick yells, running up.

"Don't know," Glenn tells him.

"We locked the gates to the tombs," Sasha informs the officer. "Hershel's on guard."

"It ain't a breach," Daryl says.

"We followed the plan," Sasha tells him as we run for D, Rick joining the mob. We enter to find D in chaos. People scream, trying to avoid being bit. Rick stands by the door, pushing people out after inquiring if they're bit. The rest of us rush to join the fight, killing the walkers that are causing the problem. I pull a young girl back before a walker can bite her, putting an arrow in its head. "Daryl! Take her!"

My brother picks her up and runs to the door, handing her over to Rick. The chaos dies down as we kill the walkers on the ground floor. "Check every cell," I order, drawing my knife before I enter a cell.

I follow Daryl upstairs after seeing that the cell is empty, and I'm exiting a cell, wiping off my knife, when I hear Glenn cry out. I turn and find that he's pinned against the wall by a walker, unable to use his knife. "Get down!" Daryl cries as we both aim our crossbows.

Daryl fires first, and I lower my crossbow as the walker falls into a cell. I hurry over to Glenn, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. "Thanks," he says, looking at my brother.

Rick runs over, and we turn to the cell that the walker fell in. He pushes the privacy curtain aside, and we look down at the walker. "Oh, it's Patrick," Daryl sighs.

"Oh, god," I say, turning away. I lean on the railing, feeling sick to my stomach. I put my head in my hands, and feel a hand on my back. Glenn puts his arm around me, and I lean into him. I hate losing friends, and Patrick was one of my best friends.

We break off, each of us checking the cells and putting knives in the heads of those that will reanimate. We begin to take out the dead, and I'm walking back in from helping Tyreese when I hear Carol's voice. "Clary."

I turn, and see she's kneeling next to Ryan Samuels, tears running down her face. I glance over at Ryan, and see a bite on his arm. I look back at her, and she shakes her head, silently telling me that there's nothing they can do. "Clary, can you go get Lizzie and Mika?" she asks me. "They need to say goodbye."

I nod once, then turn and run to find the two girls so they can have a chance to say goodbye.

* * *

**_~Daryl~_**

I watch as Rick kills a walker, one that I know used to be a man named Charlie. He opens the cell door, and Dr. Caleb Subramanian, or as we call him, Dr. S., steps through the door. He kneels next to Charlie, and Rick looks him over. "No bites, no wounds. I think he just died," Rick says.

"Horribly, too," Dr. S. says. "Pleurisy aspiration."

"Choked to death on his own blood," Hershel translates, standing just outside the cell. "Caused those trails down his face."

"I've seen them before," Rick says suddenly. "On a walker outside the fences."

I glance over my shoulder for Clary, but see only Bob, and say, "Saw them on Patrick, too."

"They're from the internal lung pressure building up," Dr. S. explains. "Like if you shake a soda can and pop the top. Only imagine your eyes, ears, nose, and throat are the top."

"It's a sickness," Bob says. "From the walkers?"

"No, these things happened before they were around."

I find it hard to remember a time before the walkers. We've grown so used to them being there, a constant danger. It's just so hard to remember a time before you weren't constantly kept looking over your shoulder. I ask, "You know what it is?"

"It could be pneumococcal. Most likely an aggressive flu strain."

"Someone locked him in just in time," Hershel states.

"No, man," I say. "Charlie used to sleepwalk. Locked himself in. Hell, he was just eating barbeque yesterday. How could somebody die in a day just from a cold?"

"I had a sick pig," Rick says. "Died quick. Saw a sick boar in the woods."

"Pigs and birds," Hershel says with a sigh. "That's how these things spread in the past. We need to do something about those hogs."

"Maybe we got lucky," Dr. S. says hopefully. "Maybe these two cases are it."

"Haven't seen anyone be lucky in a long time," Clary says, now standing beside Bob.

He gives a nod and says, "Bugs like to run through close quarters. Doesn't get any closer than this."

"All of us in here, we've all been exposed," Hershel says, looking around at us.

* * *

**_~Clary~_**

I find Lizzie and Mika at a table outside, and they look up as I approach. They sit next to each other, holding each other's hands. I kneel in front of them, taking one of their hands. I look up in their eyes, and find that Mika's already close to tears, while Lizzie remains calm for the most part. "What is it?" Lizzie asks.

"I'm sorry, girls," I tell them. "I hate to be the one to tell you this." I pause for a second, deciding how I should say it. "Your daddy was bit."

"No!" Mika cries.

"I'm sorry, girls," I repeat. "He's still alive. He wants to say goodbye to you. Can you two be brave for me and say goodbye to your daddy?"

The girls nod, and I stand, taking their hands and leading them into Cell Block D. Mika clings to my hand as though it's a lifeline, while Lizzie is still calm. I take them into their father's cell, gently pushing them together. Carol stands up, guiding the girls to their father. "Dad?" Mika asks, her voice breaking. She turns to Carol and I. "We have to go get Dr. S."

"Honey, he's been bit," Carol says. "The doctor won't help now."

Lizzie reaches forward, taking her father's hand. He doesn't open his eyes, but he can somehow tell that it's his eldest daughter. I realize that it's the way she holds his hand that he can tell, the way she touches him. It's the same way I can tell if it's Daryl that's touching me. There are certain ways that people touch you, and you can tell who it is without even looking.

Ryan turns his head towards his girls, but doesn't open his eyes. He says to Lizzie, "You take care of your sister."

Lizzie nods, and I watch as he exhales a final time. "Dad?" Lizzie says. "Dad? Dad!"

Mika turns to us, and Carol leads them away. "Come on, it's time," she tells them. "You know what I have to do, what we're supposed to do. Clary, take them outside."

I nod, taking the girls from Carol and she turns. Lizzie reaches forward and stops her, then turns to her sister. "We should be the ones."

She says this so calmly it's eery. Mika shakes her head, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "No," she says, close to crying. "I can't."

"Lizzie, are you sure?" Carol inquires, and when she nods, the knife is handed over to the eldest daughter. "Okay, you have to do it now. You need to do it right now because you have to do it before he turns. I'm gonna stay right here. Clary, you take Mika out."

I push Mika behind me, and watch as Lizzie goes over, then drops the knife. She starts to breathe fast, and Mika seems to know what's happening even though she can't see. Mika goes around me, taking Lizzie's arm and pulling her over to where there's a vase of flowers. "Lizzie, breathe with me. One, two, three with me," she says. "Lizzie, look at the flowers. One, two, three."

I put my arms around them, blocking their view as Carol picks up the knife. "Look at the flowers, girls," I tell them.

They hug each other, sobbing, and I hear Carol approach. I hand them over to her, and she hugs them as I leave the cell. I go back upstairs and see a few people crowding around a cell. As I approach, I hear Daryl saying, "How could somebody die in a day just from a cold?"

"I had a sick pig," Rick says. "Died quick. Saw a sick boar in the woods."

"Pigs and birds," Hershel says with a sigh. "That's how these things spread in the past. We need to do something about those hogs."

"Maybe we got lucky," Dr. S. says hopefully. "Maybe these two cases are it."

"Haven't seen anyone be lucky in a long time," I say, announcing my presence as I stand beside Bob.

The former Army medic gives a nod and says, "Bugs like to run through close quarters. Doesn't get any closer than this."

"All of us in here, we've all been exposed," Hershel says, looking around at us.

* * *

**_~Rick~_**

I exit Cell Block D to find Carl and Maggie helping Michonne up to Cell Block C. Carl runs over to me, ignoring me as I say, "Hey, you might want to stay back. Carl."

He hugs me anyways, saying, "Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't see you come out."

"It's okay, I'm here. I'm fine. But back away."

Carl takes a few steps back. "I had to use one of the guns by the gate. I swear I didn't want to."

I glance over at Maggie and Michonne, and the latter says, "I was coming back. I fell. They came out and helped me."

"Are you all right?" I ask, and Michonne nods. Maggie inquires, "What happened in there?"

I pause, waiting as a woman passes carrying her dead child, then look at the trio. "Patrick got sick last night. It's some kind of flu. It moves fast. We think he died and attacked the cell block." I look at Carl. "Look, I know he was your friend and I'm sorry. He was a good kid. We lost a lot of good people." I look back at Maggie. "Glenn and your dad are okay, but they were in there. Same with Clary. You shouldn't get too close to anyone that might have been exposed, at least for a little while. Carl. All of you."

"I saw Clary leading Lizzie and Mika in," Carl says, walking back to the girls. "What happened?"

"Ryan Samuels died," I tell them. "Carol sent Clary to get the girls so they could say goodbye to their father." I pause for a second. "Like I said, we lost a lot of good people."

* * *

**_~Daryl~_**

The library is definitely a multipurpose room. There's storytime, weapons training (Clary told me and I didn't object), and we also hold our council meetings there. Since Rick decided he doesn't want to be in charge anymore, a few of us has stepped up to lead and make decisions. Personally, I didn't want to be part of it, but then I remembered Dale's words to my sister and I on the day he died. _"Your opinion makes a difference. Same with you, Clary."  
_  
So we sit around a table in the library, at a council meeting. Glenn, Hershel, Sasha, Carol, Clary, and I. "Patrick was fine yesterday," Carol says. "And he died overnight. Two people died that quick? We'll have to separate everyone that's been exposed."

"That's everyone in that cell block. All of us," I say. "Maybe more."

"We know that this sickness can be lethal," Hershel says. "We don't know how easily it spreads. Is anyone else showing symptoms that we know of?"

"We can't just wait and see," Carol says. "There's children."

"She's right," Clary agrees. "If people die, they become a threat. We need a place for them to go. They can't stay in D. I don't think we should risk going in there to clean it up."

"We can use Cell Block A," Carol suggests.

"Death row?" Glenn inquires. "Not sure that's much of an upgrade."

"It's clean," I say. "That's an upgrade." I look at Hershel. "Think that'll work for Dr. S?"

"I'll help Caleb set it up," the old man confirms. We look up when we hear coughing, and head to the door. "You okay?" I hear Tyreese ask.

"Mm hmm," a voice I recognize as Karen's replies.

"You sure?" Carol inquires, stepping out into the hall. "You don't sound so good."

"We're just taking her back to my cell so she can rest," Tyreese informs us.

"Tyreese, I don't think that's a good idea," Hershel says.

"Why?" Karen inquires. "What's going on now?"

"We think it's a flu or something," Glenn tells them. "That's how Patrick died."

"Judith is in that cell block," Hershel says, and I feel a surge of protectiveness at the baby's name. When she was born, keeping her alive was what kept me going. I thought that my sister was dead, and making sure the baby didn't end up the same way kept me fighting. "She's vulnerable. Anyone that may be sick or even exposed should stay away."

"It killed Patrick?" is all Karen asks.

"She's gonna be okay," Tyreese says. "Now that we know what Patrick died from, we can treat it, right?"

"I'm afraid it ain't that simple," Clary says. "This ain't like it was before, when all you had to do was run to the local pharmacy to get meds. I'm not even sure if we have everything that we need to treat it."

"But we can figure out a way, right?"

"Don't panic," Hershel says calmly. "We're going to figure this out. But we should keep you separated in the mean time. We'll have Caleb take a look at you. I'll see what we have in the way of medications. We've probably got something that'll help."

"David from the Decatur group," Karen tells us. "He's been coughing, too."

"I'll get him," Glenn volunteers. "There's some empty clean cells in the tombs, right?"

"Yeah, we'll meet you there," Sasha tells him as he runs off to get David. She walks over to her brother and his girlfriend, leading them to the tombs. "Come on, let's get you settled."

"We'll have to call another meeting later," Hershel says.

"All right," I agree. "I'll get to burying the dead ones."

"You wear gloves and a mask," Hershel orders. He walks off, and I start to do the same, then stop and look at Carol. "You all right?"

"I'm worried about Lizzie and Mika," she admits. "They were around Patrick."

"We all were," I say. "Karen and David are gonna be separated till they feel better."

"You're right. Are you okay?"

"Mm hmm. Gotta be." I turn and walk off, leaving Clary and Carol behind. Clary says something to Carol, then I hear her footsteps as she runs to join me. Together we retrieve everything we need to start burying the dead. I look down at the body of a woman, and Clary says, "C'mon. We've got work to do."

* * *

**_~Clary~_**

Together, my brother and I begin to dig the graves for the dead. Every now and then, he'll glance over at me. We both know the same thing. This grave will be for Patrick. Daryl stops digging a moment, while I continue. He wipes his arm across his forehead, taking a breath. I see Rick coming over as he goes back to digging. He stops in between Daryl and I, and my brother says, "Glad you were in there."

"Wasn't much use without my gun," he replies.

"No, you were," I say, leaning against my shovel. I wipe my forehead, looking at Rick. "All this time you been takin' off, you earned it. We wouldn't be here without you."

"It was all of us," he says, picking up a shovel. Rick looks over at me, doing a double take. "You should be wearing a mask."

"Rick," I say softly, remembering the torture back in Woodbury, the way I couldn't breathe because there was a cloth covering my face. "I can't."

"Oh," he says, realizing what I mean. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"Lucky you," I reply, tossing another shovelful of dirt out of the grave.

"Clary's right," Daryl says, looking over at me. "It was you first." He turns to face him. "You gonna help us figure this out?"

"I screwed up too many times," Rick says. "Those calls you gotta make, I start down that road... I almost lost my boy, who he was."

"But you didn't," I argue. "Carl's still who he was."

"That's because he had you." Rick shakes his head. "Whatever else this place needs, I'm here for it."

"Like we said, you earned it," Daryl tells him. "But for what it's worth, you see mistakes. I see when the shit hits, you're standing there with a shovel."

He climbs out of the grave he had been digging, just as Maggie comes running over. "Rick! Daryl! Clary!" she yells, gesturing to the fence.

"Oh, shit," Rick says, and takes off. Daryl pulls me up out of the grave, and we grab our crossbows, following closely behind Rick. We follow Maggie to where the fence is starting to give due to the weight of the walkers. "The noise drew 'em out and now this part's starting to give," she calls, stabbing a walker.

Glenn, Tyreese, and Sasha join the fight, and the walker bodies begin to pile up. It doesn't even look like we're making a dent, despite the multiple bodies on the ground. I happen to glance down, and have to jump back from a walker that nearly grabbed me. Tyreese helps me up, and I nod once. "Thanks, Ty."

He goes back to killing walkers, not even acknowledging my thanks. I tap Sasha's arm, getting her attention. I gesture to the dead rats at my feet. They're not just dead, they're partially devoured. "Are you guys seeing this?" Sasha asks.

Daryl looks over, and Tyreese joins us. "What the hell?" I exclaim. "Is someone feeding these things?"

We look over, and see part of the fence being overwhelmed by walkers. "This part of the fence!" Maggie cries, alerting us.

We rush over, and before we can kill any walkers, the fence starts to buckle and give. "It's gonna give!" I cry.

We push on it, but the walkers are too strong. "Everybody back!" Daryl barks after a minute. "C'mon, back!"

"Fence keeps bending in like that, walkers are coming over it," Sasha says. After a moment, Rick says, "Daryl, get the truck. I know what to do."

Daryl nods and takes off, running for the truck. The rest of us stay behind, doing what we can at the fence. Tyreese and Maggie open the gate for them as they drive through. They stop outside the fences, getting the walkers' attention. As soon as Rick pulls the first pig from the box, I understand. "That's brilliant," I say.

He's using the pigs to lure the walkers away long enough for us to reinforce the fence, while simultaneously fixing the problem with the pigs. Once we finish, I head back up to the prison, and run into Carol in the tombs.


	4. Isolation

"You found them like this?" Rick inquires. Tyreese, Rick, Carol, Clary, and I stand in a courtyard, the charred bodies of Karen and David lying on the ground below us. Tyreese found them like this, and ran to get us.

"I came to see Karen," Tyreese explains, his voice just above a whisper. "Saw the blood on the floor. Then I smelled them. Somebody dragged 'em out here and set 'em on fire!" His voice shakes as he exclaims, "They killed 'em and set 'em on fire!"

Tyreese turns to Rick, and Clary steps forward, behind him. "You're a cop," Tyreese says. "You find out who did this and you bring 'em to me. You understand? You bring 'em to _me_."

"We'll find out who did this," I say, laying my hand on Tyreese's arm.

He slaps my hand away, his attention on Rick. "Do I need to say it again?"

"No," Rick replies. "No. I know what you're feeling. I've been there. You saw me there. It's dangerous."

"Karen didn't deserve this! David didn't deserve it! Nobody does!"

"Alright, Ty," Clary says, putting her hand on the burly black man's arm to pull him back. "We understand. Let's—"

He spins and pushes her against the wall. "I ain't going nowhere till I find out who did this!"

Clary looks past Tyreese and holds her hands up, telling us to back off. I lower my crossbow, not even realizing that I had raised it. She looks back at him, calmly saying, "We're on the same side, Ty. I don't wanna see you get hurt. Let's just calm down, m'kay? We're gonna figure this out, Ty."

He still doesn't release her, glaring at her as though he doesn't hear her words. "Hey, look, I know what you're going through," Rick says. "We've all lost someone. We all know what you're going through right now, but you need to calm down."

The former officer rests his hand on Tyreese's back, and he spins, shoving him back. "You need to back the hell up!"

"She wouldn't want you being like this," Rick says, unknowingly prodding the bull. Tyreese snaps, throwing the first punch. Carol cries for him to stop and he throws another punch. "Ty, stop it!" Clary cries.

I grab Tyreese from behind, pinning his arms to his side as Carol helps Rick up. Rick throws a punch back, and I release Ty. He falls to the ground, and Rick kicks him in the side. He throws punches, and I try to pull him off of Tyreese. "Let go of me!" Rick yells.

"No!" I reply, pulling him away from Tyreese.

"Let go of me!"

"Rick!" Clary exclaims. "It's over!"

Rick pushes me off of him, and Clary steps forward, separating him from Tyreese. "I will knock you on your ass, Rick Grimes," she threatens, boldly facing him. Her grey-blue eyes are hard, despite them shining with tears. "You hear me? I will stomp your ass."

He doesn't go back to hitting Tyreese. He holds his bloody fist in his hand, looking at it in shock. Clary kneels next to Tyreese, who had begun to sob. She hugs him, resting her head on his, and I see a few tears run down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Ty," she whispers. "I'm so sorry about Karen."

* * *

An emergency council meeting. That's what we said our reason for gathering in the library is. We're down one, but with Michonne present it brings it back to six. "It's spreading," Hershel says. "Sasha, Caleb, and now others."

"Jesus," Daryl says.

"So what do we do?" Carol inquires.

"Better question is, is there anything that we can do?" I inquire.

"First things first, Cell Block A is isolation," Hershel declares. "We'll keep the sick people there like we tried with Karen and David."

"Speaking of, what the hell are we gonna do about that?" Daryl asks.

"As Rick to look into it," Carol suggests. "Try to make a timeline, who's where when. But what are we gonna do to stop this?"

"There is no stopping it," Hershel says. "You get it, you have to go through it."

"But it just kills you?" Michonne inquires.

"The illness doesn't," Hershel tells her.

"It's not the virus that kills you," I explain. "It's the symptoms. The virus doesn't cause you to choke to death on your own blood. Coughing up blood, that's a symptom, and it'll end up leading to your death."

"What we need is antibiotics," Hershel says.

"We've been through every pharmacy nearby," Daryl argues. "And then some."

"That veterinary college at West Peachtree Tech, that's one place people may not have thought to raid for medication. The drugs for animals there are the same we need."

I had forgotten about him being a veterinarian. "That's fifty miles," I say.

Daryl nods, saying, "Too big a risk before. Ain't now. I'm gonna take a group out. Best not waste anymore time."

He stands, and Michonne volunteers to come. Hershel looks at her, saying, "You haven't been exposed. Daryl has. You get in a car with him..."

"He's already given me fleas," Michonne jokes.

Hershel chuckles, and stands. "I can lead the way. I know where everything's kept."

My brother looks at him. "When we're out there, it's always the same. Sooner or later, we run."

"I can draw you a map."

"Take Bob," I say, and the attention turns to me. "He was a medic. He'd know what the meds look like."

"Good idea," Hershel says. Daryl and Michonne turn to walk off, but Hershel stops them. "There are other precautions I feel we should take. After all, there's no telling how long it will be until Daryl and his group are back."

"Like what?"

"Wouldn't it make sense to separate the most vulnerable? We can use the administration building. Separate office, separate room."

"Who _is _the most vulnerable?" Glenn inquires.

"The very young. Children."

"What about the old?"

Hershel gives a nod, and I don't miss the look he shoots at me. "I ain't goin' in," I say. "I'm more use out here. 'sides, I've already been exposed. Wouldn't do me much good if I went into quarantine."

"You're our exception, then," Hershel says. He follows Daryl and Michonne out, going to draw them a map, and Carol exits moments later. Glenn and I remain, him still in his chair. "You okay?" I ask.

"Just tired," he tells me. I feel his forehead, then bend down to look him at him more closely.

"You're burning up," I say. "You should get Hershel to take a look at you." He opens his mouth to object. "Please, Short Round? For me?"

"Okay," he gives. "I'll talk to Hershel."

"Thank you." I press my lips to his forehead. "Take care, Glenn."

* * *

I watch as Tyreese finishes putting dirt back on the two graves, and look down. It's hard when you lose someone you love. As I look down, I notice a white rose in the ground, and immediately pick it. I walk over to Tyreese, the flower at my side. I place it on the grave where Karen lies, and stand up. "A flower?" he questions.

"It's a Cherokee Rose," I tell him. "The story is that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much 'cause they were losing their little ones along the way from exposure and disease and starvation. A lot of them just disappeared. So the elders said a prayer, asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits, give them strength, hope. The next day this rose started to grow right where the mothers' tears fell." I look up at him. "It grows when you lose someone that you love."

Tyreese glances down, and we stand in silence for a moment. He looks at me. "Thank you, Clary."

I bite my lip, then walk away. As I walk away, I run into Rick, who had walked over. I stop at Tower Three, picking up a quart of oil for Daryl. When I arrive, he and Michonne are talking. "You know I'm not running off," Michonne says, and Daryl nods. "So it's just gonna be me, you, and Clary like in the old days?"

"Not exactly," I say, handing Daryl the oil. "I'm not goin'. There's things that I can do around here."

"So just me and you, then," she says, addressing Daryl.

"Yeah, and Bob," he confirms. "Still, feels like we could use another person."

"Who else isn't sick?"

"We don't ask Rick. He wants to stay here with Carl and Little Ass Kicker. Keep them safe. Plus there's plenty of stuff he could do here. Clary, you'd be helpful with everything goin' on with Karen and David. Mind like yours."

"Carol's looking after the girls. Lizzie and Mika," I say. "I told Rick I'd do what I could. No promises. So the three of us are out. I think Glenn's got it. Maggie hasn't been exposed. Five are out."

"So who else we got?" Michonne asks.

"Tyreese."

* * *

I find Tyreese standing outside the entrance to Cell Block A. "There you are," I say. "Took me damn near forever to find you. What're ya doin'?"

"Somebody's gotta stand watch," he replies.

"Man, I want to find them, too. Put a bolt in 'em for what they did." Tyreese turns and looks in at the sound of coughing. "These people are cut off. Ain't no way anyone's gettin' in and out without a whole bunch of people seein' 'em."

"Sasha's in there. I ain't going nowhere. You'd do the same if it was Clary."

"Damn straight. But standin' guard ain't gonna do 'em any good unless we come back with them meds." He turns to the door, away from me. "All right, then. We're gassing up by the front gate in case you change your mind."

I turn and walk off, back to the cars.

"I'm in."

I look up at the sound of Tyreese's voice. I close the trunk as I say, "We've got work to do."

* * *

"Clary?"

I turn at the sound of Lizzie's voice. She stands a little ways behind me, her arms crossed over her chest. "Hey, Lizzie," I say. "You okay?"

"I don't feel good," she tells me. "I was looking for Carol."

"All right, c'mon." I take her by the arm, gently leading her to A Block. "I'll take ya to her."

I lead the way into A Block, saying, "Carol."

She turns, and her eyes go straight to Lizzie. She looks back at me. "I don't feel good," Lizzie says. "Clary brought me to you."

She coughs into her elbow, and I release her as Carol hugs her. "Don't worry," Carol tells her softly. "Hey, don't worry. We're gonna get you better." She looks down at Lizzie. "You just go in there and lie down."

"Will you tuck me in?" Lizzie inquires.

"Hey, Lizzie," I say, and she looks at me. "You know Glenn?" She nods. "He's the best tucker I know. He'll make sure you're all snug and warm. He'll take care of you. Keep you safe."

"You swear?"

"I solemnly swear."

Carol opens the door for Lizzie, gently pushing her in. Lizzie takes a step forward, then turns and hugs Carol. "I'm scared."

"I know, honey," Carol replies. "I know. But you gotta go in. It's okay. It'll be over soon."

Lizzie turns and goes in, Carol shutting the door behind her. She turns to me, pulling off the mask she was wearing. She looks like she's close to crying. "Lizzie's sick now," Carol says. "Sasha's got it."

"Glenn, too," I say, running a hand through my hair. I look at her, and say, "Carol, what the hell did we do?"

* * *

"We need to get you a bell, my God," I say after jumping when I turn and see Tyreese standing behind me.

He smiles in amusement. "Sorry to interrupt."

"No, it's okay. I was just takin' a break from the investigation. Tryin' to figure out what I can. Not much to go off of. No one here had a problem with Karen and David, did they?"

"No," Tyreese says. "Everyone liked her. Same with David."

"I know," I tell him. "It wasn't cold-blooded, I can tell you that right now. I have a theory that whoever did this... they didn't want the sickness to spread. If that is the case, like I think it is, then it did a hell of a lot of good, didn't it?" Tyreese remains silent. "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm goin' on the run with Daryl. I was wondering… I know there's a lot of people in trouble. Sick. It's just, I know how you are. Carol, too. Even if you don't show it. You care. Look, I was wondering if you and Carol could look in on Sasha for me."

I look down as Tyreese continues to talk, biting my lip.

"It would make me feel better if you two were looking in on her. If you can't—"

"No," I say, looking up. "No, we can. I'd be happy to. I'm already looking in on Glenn. I can look in on Sasha for you, too."

"Thank you."

"And, Ty, I'm so sorry about Karen."

He nods, patting my shoulder as he passes. As soon as he's gone, I break down. I sit on the ground, sobbing about what I did to Karen and for Tyreese. I cover my face with my hands, and eventually calm down. I wipe my eyes as Rick walks by, and he looks at me. "You okay?"

"Just worried about Glenn," I say, not exactly lying but not telling the truth either. "He's got it."

"Yeah, I heard," Rick replies. He walks over, pulling me to my feet. "C'mon, I'll take you to see him."

As we walk towards Cell Block A, we start to hear Maggie speaking with her father. Well, it was more or less Maggie arguing with Hershel. "What's going on?" Rick asks.

"Elderberries," Hershel says, gesturing to a crate on the ground. "My wife used to make tea with them. They're a natural flu remedy. Caleb's too sick to help. I can."

"Shouldn't you be in quarantine?" I inquire.

"Thank you!" Maggie exclaims, then looks at me. "Wait, shouldn't you?"

"Long story," I say.

"There's so many times, we haven't been able to do anything to change what was happening, what was happening to us," Hershel says. "We wished we could, but we couldn't. This time, I can. I know I can. So I have to."

"Hershel, if you go in there, you're gonna get sick," Rick warns.

"We don't know that. What we do know is that these people's symptoms need to be controlled."

"Hershel, please. We can wait," I say.

"Listen, dammit! You step outside, you risk your life. You take a drink of water, you risk your life. And nowadays you _breathe_, and you risk your life. Every moment now, you don't have a choice. The only thing you can choose is what you're risking it _for._ Now I can make these people feel better and hang on a little bit longer. I can save lives. That's reason enough to risk mine. And you know that."

We're all silent for a minute, then I say, "Well, damn. When you put it like that."

And so he picks up his elderberry tea and goes into Cell Block A, none of us stopping him.

* * *

"That was a stupid thing you did," I say, referring to Carol going out alone to fixed the muddied line. Clary and Carol turn, the teenager, glancing at the two of us. "Going out there like that."

"Yes it was," Carol agrees.

I walk down the steps, and stop in front of them. "You know, you do a lot for us, for the kids. Both of you. You sacrifice a lot. Is there anything you two wouldn't do for the people here?"

"Rick, you know me," Clary says. "I would die for each and every one of you at any given moment."

Carol shakes her head in response. "No."

I look at Carol and Clary, hoping like hell they deny what I need to ask them. "Carol, Clarissa, did you kill Karen and David?"

They glance at each other before answering in unison: "Yes."

Well, that puts a damper on my son's relationship.

* * *

**GUYS DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW CLOSE I WAS TO PUTTING THIS IN WHEN HERSHEL SAYS "THIS TIME, I CAN. I KNOW I CAN. SO I HAVE TO."?**

**CLARY: **"YOU THINK YOU CAN DO THESE THINGS BUT YOU JUST CAN'T HERSHEL!"

**HELP ME**


	5. Live Together, Die Alone

I lean against the door separating Carl and I, my head resting on the glass. "I'm goin' on a run with your dad and Carol," I tell him. "We're gonna see if we can find any medicine, food."

He starts to open the door, and I say quickly, "Don't ope—"

Too late. Carl opens the door, and holds something up. There's a flash, and I realize it was a camera. "Where'd you find that?" I ask.

"Lying in the office," he replies, looking at the picture. He looks at me. "Be careful, Clary."

"I will," I promise. He hugs me, and I rest my head on his shoulder. For some reason, I feel as though this is the last time I'll see him for a while, and not just because I'm going on a run. I pull back, looking at him. "Bye, Carl."

I turn and walk off, meeting Rick just as Carol arrives at the Hyundai. We get in, then leave the prison behind. We drive in silence for a while, and Carol breaks it by saying, "You know, Maggie wanted to come along."

"Yeah," Rick says. "We need someone to stay behind, watch over things."

"Someone you trust, you mean," I say bitterly. I'm not stupid. After Carol and I told Rick, it's completely obvious that he doesn't trust us. Why the hell else would the both of us be here while Maggie is back at the prison?

Rick's silent.

"They would've drowned in their own blood. We made it quick, painless. A better alternative, if they were going to die. And they didn't have that long yet to live."

"They were suffering, Rick," Carol says. "And we needed the bodies gone. We needed to stop it from spreading. They were the only ones who were sick."

"They were a threat," I say, and meet Rick's eyes in the rearview mirror. "You know all about eliminating the threat."

"We were trying to save lives. We had to try. Someone had to."

Rick finally speaks, and it's just one word. "Maybe."

We pull into a housing development, and stop behind another vehicle. We climb out, retrieving bags for anything we might find. Rick, Carol, and I examine the car, opening the doors and looking inside. The side windows are covered with dust, unlike the windshield. "Think they're comin' back?" I inquire.

"Windshield's clean, wiped down," Rick replies. "Can't have been here more than a day, maybe two."

Carol looks at him. "You mean Daryl and the others. That's what this is, right? In case they don't."

"Until they do. That's what this is. Medicine cabinets, first aid kits. Anything that could help Hershel. We get in, we get out. And if we can eat it, we take it."

The three of us check the first house we come to, weapons up as we enter. Carol and I stand guard, watching for walkers as Rick raids the medicine cabinet in a bathroom. He exits, entering the kitchen to look for food. Carol follows him, checking cabinets. I turn as I hear faint snarling, and see a walker at the top of the stairs. It falls down them, and Rick pulls me back, exclaiming, "Clary!"

It falls right where I had been standing, and I put a bolt in its brain. I bend down, pulling it out, as Carol comes over. We stand, raising our weapons as a door upstairs creaks open. Two people step out, both in their twenties. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, it's cool," the guys says, raising his hand.

"We have fruit," the girl offers, holding out peaches.

"Yeah, we got apricots, peaches," the guy adds. "Here, catch." He tosses down an apricot, and it lands on the ground next to the walker. "Or, you know, don't."

We lower our weapons, seeing as they're not much of a threat. We allow them to come downstairs, as long as they hand over their weapons first. They hold out guns and knives, and I step up the stairs, crossbow raised, to take them. They come downstairs, and Carol notices a wound on the guy's shoulder. She instructs him to sit at the table, and asks, "How'd this happen?"

"Greenhouse around the corner," he replies.

"We were looking for a place to crash," the girl explains. "The roof's broken out and it's been getting lots of rain, so it's full of fruit. We were there about a day and the skin-eaters showed up. Ana, by the way."

"Killjoys, man," the guy says. "Jacking it up for the whole world. I thought everybody was an asshole before this all went down. Now I love people. People that are alive, anyway. I'm Sam."

"You've gotta be kidding me," I mutter. Of all the goddamn people to run into in the apocalypse, this asshole's name is Sam. I immediately dislike him as soon as I learn his name. I don't give a shit if it is a common name. How dare he have the same name as my best friend, the one that I lost to the walkers.

"How'd it happen again?" Carol inquires.

"When they were coming in through the door, I tripped coming out the other side," Sam answers. "I pulled the glass out, but my shoulder, it still hurts like a bitch."

"It's dislocated."

"Can you fix it?" Ana inquires. Carol nods, and pulls the tablecloth off the table. "Lay on your back," she instructs, and Sam does everything she tells him to. "Okay, scooch over to the edge. Just hold your arm… Clary, hand me that bag." I give it to her, and she hands it to Sam. "Here, just hold onto this bag. Hold on."

He holds on to the bag as Carol pushes his shoulder back into place. I hear it pop, and Carol tells him to sit up. She puts bandages over his shoulder, and he looks at me. "Your name's Clary?" I nod. "No shit. I had a cousin named Clary. What about you? Know anyone named Sam?"

"My best friend was named Sam," I say bitterly. "I watched the walkers take him from me. He's dead, you arrogant dick."

Sam shuts his mouth, and Rick asks, "After the greenhouse, you came here?"

"We thought it was clear," Sam says. "We missed the deadie in the PJs so we dove into the bathroom."

"How long were you up there till we showed up?"

"About two days," Ana tells us.

"There was just one. You had guns," Carol points out.

"We have about twelve bullets. It usually takes up about five or six to bring one of them down."

She says it like it's a good thing. I say, "But you have knives."

"To what, stab it in the head?" Sam inquires.

"Uh, yeah, dumbass. That's how things work nowadays."

"We were separated from our crew about a week ago. Been trying to play it safe since it's just the two of us."

I facepalm at that. Ana says, "I have to with my leg. We were at a refugee center together. There was a fire. People were just trampling over me."

"Assholes," Sam says.

"Sam saved my life. We didn't know each other before. It didn't heal right, but it healed. And we found each other. It was worth it."

"Well, ain't that grand," I say.

"Where are you two heading next?" Rick inquires.

"We just keep moving," Sam says. "We haven't been waiting for places to go bad. I mean, it's getting a little old."

"You guys look alright," Ana observes. "Family holding up like that."

"We ain't a family," I tell her. "My boyfriend is his son. I'm ninety-nine percent sure she and my brother are in love."

"Shut up, Dixon," Carol says.

Ana nods once. "What's your setup like, anyway?"

"The 'skin-eaters?'" Rick inquires, referring to their name for the undead. "We call 'em walkers. How many have you killed?"

* * *

"We got about all we're gonna get here," Carol says as she finishes packing a bag. "We should move on."

"So did we pass your test?" Sam asks eagerly. Clary, Carol, and I share a look. Carol looks as though she would trust them, but it's obvious that Clary has her doubts. Then again, I can't really blame her. It takes them five or six bullets to take down _one_ walker? And the apocalypse has been going on for nearly two years.

I turn to them. "We're in a prison about eight miles north. If you come back with us, we can't guarantee your safety. There's an illness, a flu. It's bad."

"We've lost a lot," Carol adds. "Kids, too."

"Yours?" Ana asks.

"No, thank God," she answers. I look at her, then remember that she took Lizzie and Mika under her wing. But it seems as though she's started to forget about Sophia. "But one of my girls, she's got it."

"She's strong. She'll make it."

I glance at Clary, and she mouths, _Lizzie. _I look back at Ana and Sam as the latter says, "You got fences and walls? We're in!"

"Yeah, whatever you need us to do," Ana agrees.

"For now, sit tight," I tell them. "The three of us will circle back for you before dark.'

"Or you could help us sweep the rest of this neighborhood," Carol interjects.

"We can do that," Ana says eagerly. "I can check the greenhouse, see if it's clear, and bring back more fruit."

"And I can hit some of the houses," Sam volunteers.

"Well, that's nice of you, but your shoulder—" I start, but am cut off.

"I'm fine. As long as I don't put too much weight on this arm, I'm good."

"And I can still move pretty fast," Ana adds.

I say, "I just don't think—"

"We won't take any chances," Sam says quickly. "We'll look. And if it's cake, we'll do it. If not, we'll just roll." He glances at the bandage over my hand from when I beat Tyreese. "I mean, you don't look so good yourself, man. Are you a righty or a lefty?"

"We'll cover more ground," Clary says after being silent for a while. "We'll get back sooner. Better chance of savin' Lizzie, or Short Round."

With that, she and Carol walk off, and the two newcomers look at me. "You have a guy named Short Round?"

"It's her name for a guy in our group because he's Korean," I explain. "They're close."

"Look, we want to help," Ana says. I sigh, then give them back their guns. I say, "You fire a shot, we'll come running. Let's meet back here in two hours." I hand Sam my watch. "You'll need this."

I follow the girls out of the house, and we enter another. After a quick sweep proving it's empty, we begin to look for medicine. Carol and Clary dig through bedside drawers, while I raid the cabinet. "Dammit," Clary sighs. "It's all expired by at least a year."

"Better to take it," I tell them. "Let Hershel decide what he needs. So, did you think it was right, letting those kids come back with us?"

"I think it was the humane thing to do," Carol states.

I turn to look at them. "But did you think it was right?"

"Look at us. Digging through drawers, hoping that a couple of cough drops and some disinfectant might be the difference between dying and living a couple more hours," Clary says, tossing what she mentioned on the bed.

"If they're strong enough to help us survive this thing, then yeah, I think you made the right call," Carol says.

"And if they're not?" I inquire.

"Let's hope they are."

I turn back to medicine cabinet, and I hear Clary's voice behind me. "Rick, Carol and I killed two people and you ain't said a word about it."

"What do you want me to say?" I ask, looking at her.

"It's not about what you say," Carol answers for her, stepping in the doorway. "It's about facing the reality. It always comes for us, over and over again. We face it so that we can live."

"So that _we _can live."

"That's right. That's what it always comes down to. You can be a farmer, Rick. You can't _just _be a farmer, Rick. You were a good leader. Better than I probably gave you credit for."

"I never murdered two of our own."

"Just one," Clary shoots. "Just like us. Carol killed David, and I killed Karen. We've all killed one of our own."

"He was gonna kill me, Clary," I say. "You, too. You know that."

"So were they. They were gonna kill all of us. _You_ know that."

"You don't know that."

"If you thought it would save Judy or Carl, would you have done it?"

"Don't put me in that spot."

"No, I will. Would you have just gone back to your crops and hoped it would all be okay? You ain't gotta like what we did, Rick. I sure as hell don't. You just have to accept it. Accept that we were doing it to keep all of us safe. To keep our family safe."

* * *

We leave the house through the back door, cutting across the lawns. "Let's hit the houses across the street," Carol suggests.

"Hold on," Rick says, and kneels next to a few tomato plants. We kneel next to him, plucking ripe tomatoes. He looks at Carol. "How'd you put his shoulder back before? Learn that from Hershel?"

"Internet," Carol says. "It's easier than telling an ER nurse that I'd fallen down the stairs a third time."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Just fixed what needed fixing." Carol shakes her head. "I actually convinced myself that I was happy with him. Which wasn't all that hard to do considering my idea of happiness then was just not being alone. Made a decent living."

"Oh, how it would've been different if you came to Bronwood," I say.

"Where?" Carol and Rick ask at the same time.

"It's my hometown," I explain. "Little place. 'Bout eighty miles southwest of Macon. Tiny place. Little over two hundred people. Knew a guy there, one of the few that didn't hate me and my brothers. Name was Cole. Last time I saw him, he was on his way to Nashville to become a singer. He was good, too. Probably would have made it if it hadn't been for all this shit."

"Small town," Rick comments, and I nod in agreement.

"He was charming when he wanted to be," Carol continues. "Especially those mornings after he'd come home piss-drunk and…" she shakes her head again, "Stupid. I didn't think I could be strong. I didn't know I could."

"When I first met you," I admit, "I had my doubts. But I knew, somewhere deep inside, you were strong."

Rick looks at her. "Why don't you say her name?"

"She's dead, Rick," Carol replies as I look down, still feeling guilty about Sophia. "Sophia. Dead. Somebody else's slideshow."

"Some mornings, I still wake up, half expecting Lori to be there," Rick admits. "Reminding me to pick up Carl after school or telling me breakfast is ready. Every Sunday, she'd make us these pancakes that were just god awful. Clumps of flour that weren't mixed in right. Thing was, she knew it was bad."

"Why'd she keep at it?"

"She wanted us to be the kind of family that ate pancakes on Sunday."

"In the middle of the night," I say, thinking back to before. "If I hear a sound, I still wake up, thinking that it's Sam at my window. We'd do that. Sneak out of the house to go to the other's. Daryl knew. His mom knew. They never said anything. Sammy and I were just great friends." I sit back on the grass, nearly forgetting about the constant threat. "Most of the time, I was at his house. It was my escape from… from the shit that went on at mine. I don't care if you give me a million dollars, or the cure to the goddamn disease. I will never step foot inside Terrell County, or in Will Dixon's house again. Life's a bitch, ain't it?"

The two adults nod in agreement, and Rick says, "So that's who Sammy is."

I remember back at the farm, on our way back from driving eighteen miles out, I fell asleep, and said his name in my sleep. Rick had asked me who he was, and I simply told him that he was an old friend. Well, guess he knows now.

Carol and Rick stand, the latter pulling me to my feet. We walk towards the houses across the street, and find a basket on the ground, a few pieces of fruit scattered around it. We look at each other, then continue on towards a fence. I glance at the grass, and notice that as we get closer to the gate, it turns to the color of blood. Rick pushes open the door, and we see the bottom half of a leg on the ground. I recognize it as Ana's. We look up to see Ana's body in the distance, two walker's devouring her.

"We should get back," Carol decides, and Rick gives a nod in agreement. "Sam's probably waiting."

With that, Rick closes the gate on Ana and the two walkers.

* * *

I stand in the kitchen, tapping my fingers on my gun. Carol sits at the table as we wait, and Clary sits on the counter. "It's been too long," Carol finally says.

"We should give him a couple more," I say, though I do agree with her. It's been a little too long. Over two hours.

"He might be fine," Clary says. "He really might be. But it doesn't matter. He ain't here, and we need to go."

I stay silent, looking at the two of them. Lately, more than ever, these two have been agreeing on pretty much everything. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. "It was a nice watch," Carol says.

We begin to carry out haul out to the Hyundai, loading it into the car in silence. Carol tries to open the door, but I locked it. I look at the two of them. "They might have lived," I say. "Karen and David. They might have lived. And now they're dead. That wasn't your decision to make. Either of you. When Tyreese finds out, he'll kill you. He damn near killed me over nothing."

"I can handle Tyreese," Clary says. "We both can."

"When the others find out, they won't want you there. And if they don't make it back, if everybody dies of this thing and it's just the two of us, with Judith and Carl, with my children, I won't have you there."

"Rick, it's me," Carol says, a small break in her voice. "It's Clary. No one else has to know. I thought you were done making decisions for everyone."

"I'm making this decision for _me._"

"We could've pretended that everything was gonna be fine. But we didn't. We did something. We stepped up. We had to do something."

"No, you didn't."

"If you think I'm going anywhere without Lizzie and Mika—"

"You want them to leave, to go out there with you? Lizzie's sick. Mika is ten years old."

"Please, you can't."

"We'll keep them safe."

I look over at Clary, who has remained quiet this entire time, and I wish I hadn't. Her face is one of hurt, and betrayal, and I know she takes her loyalty very seriously. She's only been loyal to a handful of people her entire life, and if one breaks her trust, it's nearly certain that she'll never trust them again. She closes her eyes, and I see a single tear fall from her eyes. She looks at me, and says, "One minute."

She runs inside of the house, and about two minutes later, she comes out, carrying a piece of paper. Clary hands it to me, saying, "You give this to Daryl. That is all I need you to do. Just give that to Daryl and tell him I lo—" Her voice cracks, and she wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "Tell him I said goodbye."

I nod once, and she steps back. I look at Carol. "You're not that woman that was too scared to be alone. Not anymore. You two are gonna start over, find others. People who don't know. You're gonna survive out here. You both will."

"Maybe," Carol replies, throwing my words back at me. I give supplies—food, gas, water. Ammunition. Before we part, Carol gives me a watch. "Ed gave this to me on our first anniversary," she explains. "Please." I take it. "I should have given it away a long time ago."

She turns and climbs in the minivan, and I look over at Clary, waiting to hear what she has to say.

"Live together, die alone, right?" Clary says.

I look away from her. She's right, but I can't have them near my kids. I can't have _murderers _near my kids. "Hey, Rick," she says, and I look up to see she's on the other side of the minivan. She holds up both of her hands, flipping me off. "Fuck you."

She gets in the passenger seat of the car, and Carol starts to drive off. She goes around the roundabout and comes back the way we came. As they go past, I hear four words that ring true from Clary: "Daryl's gonna be pissed."

* * *

**Guys, I have to say, when I was writing the end of this chapter, I almost cried. I felt like I was killing off Clary (which, BTW**, **I would never _ever_ do). I had planned on this since I first watched season 4, Carol and Clary being the ones that killed Karen and David. It wasn't until I got around to writing it that I chose to have Clary being the one that killed Karen. In the second chapter, I felt like I really needed to emphasize their friendship (which developed between _Scars _and _Until the Very End_) to show that Tyreese would eventually forgive her, as he forgives Carol in the show.**

**I guess what I'm trying to say is sorry for the feels at the end.**

**Also, at the request of Faby0411, I'm going to start putting on who's POV it is at the end so y'all don't get confused. Each of the line breaks is either a new POV or time that has passed by, sometimes both. I know it sounds a little confusing. Sorry, I didn't know how to word it. Anyways, this chapter's POVs, in order, are Clary, Rick, Clary, and then Rick finishes the chapter.**


	6. Before

"What the hell are we gonna do?" I ask, staring out the window. I look back at Carol. "We can't go back, 'ccording to Rick. But Ty won't kill us. I know he won't. He ain't a violent man. And Daryl… if anyone's killin' anybody, it'll be Daryl and Rick."

I wipe my eyes, but the tears just keep on coming. Carol stops the minivan, leaning over to hug me. "I'm sorry, Carol," I sob. "We wouldn't be here if it weren't for me."

"No, shh," she says, the mother in her coming out. "Shh, it isn't your fault. It's mine. It was my idea. I convinced you to go through with it. I'm sorry."

"We wouldn't be here if I hadn't killed Karen," I whisper.

"Rick's trying to protect us," Carol says softly. "He just doesn't realize that Tyreese wouldn't hurt us. This… banishment, this exile, he's doing it to protect us, I think. Only problem is we won't ever see them again. Any of them. Lizzie, Mika. Carl, Glenn. Daryl."

We're both silent for a long time, until I say, "Unless we go back."

Carol pulls back, looking at me. "We can't. You know that."

"Maybe they'll understand, maybe they won't. Either way, that's a risk I'm willin' to take. You take care of everyone there. Me, I brought 'em there. 'Give a stranger sanctuary, keeping people fed.' That's what I do, ain't it? That's what _we _do."

Carol is quiet for a while, then says, "Tomorrow. Give Daryl and the others a chance to get back, for Rick to explain it. For Daryl to read your note. They'll either accept it or they won't, but we'll go back anyway. Tomorrow."

Even though it seems like she's agreeing, I can tell that she's still unsure. I have a feeling that she won't agree, that she won't come back with me tomorrow. Either way, I'm going back.

* * *

"Carl?" I call as I enter the administration building. He doesn't appear, so I call again, "Carl? Carl!"

He appears around a corner, skidding to a stop. "You okay?"

"I was gonna ask you that," I say.

"We're fine. No one's sick. I haven't had to use my gun," he replies, then inquires, "Where's Clary?"

_Shit, _I think. I hadn't quite figured out how to tell him about Clary, or if I wanted to yet. So I lie. I say, "She's in A Block. Wasn't feeling well on the way here, went into A Block soon as we got back. She has it."

Carl nods, biting his lip. "How's Judith?" I ask.

"She's with Beth," he answers.

"Good." I slide a backpack off my shoulder, tossing it to Carl. "We found some food on the run. There's a bunch of fruit leather in there. Have everybody brush their teeth after."

"Can we come out soon?" Carl asks as I start to walk away.

I stop, turning to look at him. "Not just yet."

"Dad, I was around you when you were in the middle of it. And I was around Patrick. I didn't get it. I can help you."

"And so was Clary," I say, continuing my lie. "She has it now. Thanks for the offer, but I need you to stay here."

"I will. But, Dad, you can't keep me from it."

"From what?"

"From what always happens."

"Yeah. Maybe. But I think it's my job to try."

I turn and walk out, going to find Hershel in A Block. He needs to know about Carol and Clary, I think. I find him putting a knife through a corpse's head, and say, "Hershel."

He turns to me, then gestures to the corpse. "Third one we've lost. We're burning them behind the blocks. Burning them. That's what it's come to."

"Are you okay?"

"I talked to him yesterday about Steinbeck. He told me a quote. 'A sad soul can kill quicker than a germ.' That's exactly why I didn't want them all to see what happens. I know they know, but I didn't want them to see it right now."

"They're seeing you, Hershel. They see you keep going," I tell him. "Even after all the choices keep getting taken away. When we get past this thing, it's not gonna be like how it was, is it?"

Hershel shakes his head. "No."

I sigh, stepping back from the glass that separates us. I turn back to him. "Was that denial? Not seeing things for how they were?"

"No," he answers. "You just caught a break. You needed some time. You got some. You got lucky. We all did. I still think there's a plan. I still believe there's a reason."

"You think it's all a test?"

"Life was always a test, Rick."

I hesitate a moment, then say, "I need to talk to you about Carol and Clary."

He nods for me to go on, and I explain to him that it was them that killed Karen and David. I tell him that I kicked them out of the prison, not wanting them to be here when Tyreese gets back. He remains silent the entire time, and I say, "When Carl asked me where Clary was, I lied and told him that she was in here. In A Block, sick with it. Hershel, can you do me a favor?"

He nods.

"If Carl comes, and I have a feeling that he will, do you think… Can you tell him that Clary's resting? Or, more like her, that she doesn't want him to see her like that? Just, anything to send him away."

"You want me to lie so he won't find out about her?" Hershel asks.

"Just until I figure out a way to tell him what she did," I say. "Please, Hershel."

He sighs, clearly not wanting to. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

We find a place about a five miles north of the housing development to spend the night in. Carol lays on the couch, while I sit in a chair, taking first watch. As soon as she falls asleep, I get up. I find paper and a working pen, and write a note for her. It takes a while, because I'm not sure what to right. When I finish, I read over it.

_Carol-_

_I'm going back. I know you say that you'll come, but I just don't believe you. I'm sorry. I know that Lizzie and Mika are back there for you, and that's only one reason that you'd go back, but I have a feeling that you'll back out. So I'm going back alone._

_I thought it would be easier to write this than say it to your face, so I'm leaving while you sleep. I hope that I'll see you again, back at the prison. Alive and well, preferably._

_Catch you on the flipside._

_-Clary_

I reread it again, then sit it on top of her gun. I take my weapons and gather a small amount of supplies. I fill a duffel bag, then leave Carol and the house behind. I begin to look for a ride, leaving Carol with the minivan. I check each garage and shed I come to, peering in windows, relying on my flashlight to tell me if there's anything inside and the moon to guide me. The last garage I check has the jackpot. "Oh, hells yeah," I say to myself, then open the garage door.

The single walker in there is slow moving, obviously not eating much, if anything, since it died. Its so decayed I can't tell if it was a man or woman when it was alive. I kill it, the body landing with a thump in the driveway. I step in, to the street bike that sits inside. It's in perfect condition, despite the end of the world. I fill up the gas tank, and strap my duffel bag to the seat behind me. I push it out of the garage and past the walker, then climb on.

I'm heading back to the prison, and I'm staying, whether Rick likes it or not.

* * *

Maggie and I work to reinforce the fence, while clumps of walkers continue to press against it. "I just talked to your dad," I tell her as we get another log. "He looks good, all things considered."

"If Carl were sick, would you be up there with him?" Maggie inquires in reply.

"If I thought I could help."

"You don't think I can help?"

We put the log up against the fence, and I duck under it to look at her. I feel a hand grab my ankle, pulling me towards the fence, and I go down. Maggie's quick to react, grabbing an axe and chopping off the walker's arm. "Damn," I say, sitting up. "I'm just glad you're out here with me."

I take her hand, and she pulls me to my feet. Maggie starts to chop some more logs, and we look up to the prison upon hearing a gunshot. "Go," I tell her.

She goes back to chopping, saying, "The fence is more important. We need to keep it standing."

"I got this."

She stops and stands, looking at me. "You can't do this alone."

"I know. Go."

She takes off running, still carrying the axe. I follow her, and while she goes into Cell Block A, I go into the admin building. Like before, I call my son's name as I enter. And like before, he comes running around a corner, skidding to a stop. This time, his gun's up. "I heard gunshots," he says.

"I need your help," I say. Carl follows me out of the building, and down to the fence. We work through the night, reinforcing the fence. "Think they're okay?" Carl inquires.

"If things were going bad, we would've heard more shots," I reply. "Maggie would've gotten us. We have to do this."

I can tell he wants to be in there, to help fight and to see Clary, as he believes. I don't want him in there for two reasons. One, he doesn't need to be in there, and two, Clary isn't in there.

"Let's do it," Carl says.

I start to lift a log, and Carl starts to help. "I got it," I say.

"I can help," he replies. Just as we get this one into place, another one breaks. We run to it, pushing back against the fence. A second one snaps, and I say, "Run!"

Carl starts running towards Tower Three, and I shove walkers out of my way, following him. I shove one into the fence, and slide on the gravel. "Dad, come on!" Carl cries, taking my arm and pulling me. "Come on!"

I pull the door to Tower Three closed behind me, walkers pounding on it. We exit through the other side, and walkers start pressing on the fence there. "Dad, what do we do?" Carl asks.

"Maybe I could back the bus up against the fence," I say, looking over at the bus that we took from Woodbury.

"Would it hold?"

"C'mon," I say, and lead him to the weapons. I hand him magazines, and we put them in our pockets. I hand him a M4A1, and take one for myself. I show him how to work it, saying, "Magazine goes in here. Releases here. Make sure it latches. Pull back the operating rod and rounds speed up. Keep squeezing the trigger for rapid fire." I look at him, and make sure he's looking back at me. "You shoot or you run. Don't let 'em get close, okay?"

We face the walkers, and begin to unload the magazines into them. They start to get a little close, so I yell, "Back up!"

As we back up, we put full mags in, and I hit a walker with the butt of my gun. It goes down, but still moves. Carl shoots it, and throws me a magazine. I watch as he takes charge, firing at the walkers without hesitating.

Once they're all down, we each take a crowbar, and pick our way through them, making sure they're all dead. "Dad," Carl says after a while. "Everything's gonna be okay."

I turn to see a minivan pulling into the prison, and know that this group is Daryl, Michonne, Tyreese, and Bob. Carl runs down and opens the gate for them, and I open the second one for them. As soon as the van stops, Tyreese and Daryl are out. "Sasha!" Tyreese says quickly. "How's Sasha?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry," I reply.

"Get in there," Daryl orders. "We got this."

Tyreese turns and runs for Cell Block A, and Daryl looks around. "Where the hell is Clary?" Daryl inquires.

It's obvious that he knows that she would be out here with us.

"She's fine," I say, knowing that somewhere, she really is. "We found out who did it. I'll tell you later."

* * *

**This chapter's POVs are Clary, Rick, Clary, and Rick finishes the chapter. **


	7. Too Far Gone

"Rick."

I turn as I hear Daryl's voice behind me, and realize that it's now or never. He's going to find out about his sister and Carol. "Hershel said to talk to you about them," he says. "Clary and Carol."

"I need you to read this first," I say, handing him the note from Clary. He opens it, and I see his eyes widen as he recognizes his sister's handwriting. He turns away as he reads down the page, and I think I catch him wiping his eyes once, but I pretend not to notice. He turns to me, tucking it in a pocket in his shirt. Just over his heart, I notice.

"It was them?"

I nod. "They admitted to it. Said they did it to protect us."

"And you kicked them out anyway."

"No, that's not why I kicked them out."

"You couldn't have waited until we got back?"

He's starting to sound almost furious now. I say, "You mean until Tyreese got back?"

"Man, I could've handled that."

"Hey. Hey," I say, forcing him to face me. "They killed two of our own. They couldn't be here. I don't care if one of 'em is your sister or not." Daryl looks like he's about to punch me as I continue, "They're gonna be alright. They've got a car, supplies, weapons. They're survivors."

"Stop sayin' that like you don't believe it," Daryl snaps, getting in my face.

I glance down as he steps away. "They did it. They said it was for _us_. That's how it was in their heads. They weren't sorry."

"That's her, but it ain't her," Daryl says, and I'm not sure if he's talking about Carol or Clary. He sighs, turning away. "What are we supposed to do about those two girls?"

"I told Carol we'd look after them," I answer. Daryl leans against the railing, resting his head on his hands. "I haven't told Tyreese yet. I don't know how he's gonna take it."

"Let's go find out," Daryl replies, standing. I follow him down the stairs and out of the cell block, looking for Tyreese. "I keep wondering," I say, "why you haven't punched me yet."

"You want me to?" Daryl replies, completely serious.

"Well, no, not really."

"It's because she asked me not to," Daryl says after a moment. "Clary. She asked me not to hurt you. But I think it was more for Carl than you."

As much as I want to grin, or chuckle, I don't, because while it seems like he's joking, he's dead serious. After a moment, Daryl says, "And you're wrong. She is sorry." I look at him doubtfully, and he shoves the note at me. "Here, read it for yourself."

As we walk, I read Clary's note, her goodbye to her brother. I can almost hear her voice, reading it aloud, as I read the written words.

_Daryl,_

_If you're reading this, then it means you've talked to Rick. It means that you now know who killed Karen and David. The answer is us. Carol and I. You know that I killed Karen. It wasn't in cold blood. We did it to try to stop it from spreading. Did a hell of a lot of good, didn't it?_

_Look, Daryl, I hate that I did it. I really do. It's not like back on the farm, when we were in town, and I killed Tony. That was defense, and also to protect my friends, my family. This time, it wasn't defense. But I was trying to protect my family. I truly hate what I did. I hate hurting Ty, and for damning Carol to share my fate, which I know will be a gruesome death, out here alone._

_I'm sorry. For all of it. For everything that I've ever done. For killing Karen. Hurting Ty. Leaving my blood behind._

_Rick's banishing us from the prison. __Bit ironic, ain't it? Being banished from a prison for committing a crime? I know how you are, a hell of a lot better than most people. I know that you'll want to hurt Rick, but I need to ask you not to. As hard as it may be, please don't. I beg you, Daryl._

_So, yeah, I'm leaving the prison. This means that I won't be seeing you again. Ever. So, I just want to say, thank you for all that you've done for me. And... I love you._

_Though it will be in your heart, I'm afraid, I'll stay with you. Until the very end._

_Cheyenne_

I feel like I'm invading a private moment as I read her letter. I never saw this side of Clary before, not once. I look over at Daryl, gently handing him the letter back. He folds it and sticks it back in his pocket, over his heart. "Cheyenne," I say, remembering it was on the paper. "She signed it Cheyenne."

"Her name," Daryl replies. "The one that I chose for her. Cheyenne Clarissa Dixon."

I'm quiet, realizing just how much Clary means to him, and the other way around. You can't see one without the other. In some ways, there opposites, but they're also the same. They're the sun and the moon, the light and the dark. Night and day. Different, but the same. It's not natural seeing them apart. They're two sides of the same coin.

"Tyreese?" I call as we enter a section of the tombs. "You down here?"

"Rick? That you?" he replies. We meet him halfway, and before I can say anything, he says, "You guys gotta see this."

"Can we take a beat?" I ask. "There's something we need to talk about."

He turns and walks off, and Daryl and I have no choice but to follow. Tyreese leads us down through the tombs, and shines his flashlight on something at the bottom of the wall. "Look," he says.

"The hell?" Daryl questions, stepping closer. I look at it, and realize that it's a small animal pinned to a board. It's been dissected, like some lab experiment.

"I was just looking for answers," Tyreese explains. "And I found this. Same person that killed Karen and David did this. Remember the rats at the fence? They showed up the same day she was killed. We got a psychopath living with us."

"Tyreese," I say, starting to explain.

"We gotta find him, Rick. And I'm not gonna sleep until we do."

"Tyreese," I say. "Whoever did this, I don't think that's who killed Karen."

He looks down at the dissected rabbit, then back at me. "Why?"

Before I can answer, there's an explosion in the distance.

* * *

"Oh shit," I hiss, hearing the explosion. I run forward, keeping to the trees, and make it to the clearing that I know holds the prison. I stop in my tracks, seeing an armed militia—with a tank—facing the prison. A man stands on the top the tank, and he calls, "Rick! Come down here. We need to talk."

I instantly know that voice, and it makes my blood run cold.

It's the goddamn Governor.

"Oh, _shit_," I say again.

"It's not up to me!" Rick calls back. "There's a council now. They run this place."

"Is Hershel on the council?" the Governor inquires, and I watch as a goon pulls the old man out of a truck. "What about Michonne? She on the council too?"

A second follower pulls Michonne out of the truck. They make them kneel side by side, standing behind them with heavy-duty automatic machine guns. "I don't make decisions anymore," Rick calls.

"Bullshit," I mutter.

"You're making the decisions today, Rick," the Governor replies. "Come down here. Let's have that talk."

The former leader looks to Daryl for the answer. My brother nods. Rick pats Carl's shoulder before Daryl opens the gate for him, allowing the officer to walk down to them. "Let 'em go," Rick says as soon as he stops. "Right now. I'll stay down here. Talk as long as you want. But you let 'em go. You got a tank, you don't need hostages."

"I do," the Governor argues. "This is just to show you I'm serious. Not to blast a hole in our new home. You and your people, you have till sundown to get out of here or they die."

_Son of a bitch,_ I think. _He is serious.  
_  
"Doesn't have to go down this way," Rick replies.

"I got more people, more firepower," the Governor states. "We need this prison. There it is. It's not about the past. It's about right now."

"There are children here. Some of them are sick. They won't survive."

"I have a tank," the Governor reiterates. Yes, we know. "And I'm letting you walk away from here. What else is there to talk about?" I watch as Daryl begins to hand out guns to our people. "I could shoot you all. You'd all shoot back. I know that. But we'll win and you'll be dead. All of you. Doesn't have to be like that. Like I said, it's your choice." I hear walkers snarling, which grabs the Governor's attention. I flinch slightly when gunshots ring out, thinking that he means to shoot the hostages. Instead, the snarling stops when there are two thumps. "Noise will only draw more of them over. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for you to get out do here.

"You got maybe an hour of sunlight left. I suggest you start packing." Rick looks down. "The longer you wait, the harder it's gonna be for you to get out of here."

Rick looks back up. "We can all... We can all live together. There's enough room for all of us."

"More than enough," the Governor agrees. "But I don't think my family would sleep well knowing that you were under the same roof."

"We'd live in different cell blocks. We'd never have to see each other till we're all ready."

Hershel looks over his shoulder at the Governor. "It could work," the farmer says. "You know it could."

"It could've," the Governor says. "But it can't. Not after Woodbury. Not after Andrea."

Michonne stiffens at the mention of the woman she rescued and grew close to. "Look, I'm not saying it's gonna be easy," Rick says. "Fact is, it's gonna be a hell of a lot harder than standing here shooting at each other. But I don't think we have a choice."

"We don't. You do."

"We're not leaving. You try and force us, we'll fight back. Like you said, the gunshots will just bring more of 'em out. They'll take down the fences. Without the fences this place is _worthless_. Now, we can all live in the prison or none of us can."

The Governor jumps down from the tank, and I flinch slightly when I see him unsheathe Michonne's katana. This won't end well, I know it. "We'll fix the damn fences," he says, then puts the katana to Hershel's neck.

Rick points to one of the Governor's goons. "You. You in the ponytails. Is this what you want?" He spreads his arms, gesturing to the full militia. "Is this what any of you want?"

"What we want is what you got," answers the guy in the tank. "Period. Time for you to leave, asshole."

"Look, I fought him before. And after, we took in his old friends. They've become leaders in what we have here. Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates... you're one of us. We let go of all of it, and nobody dies. Everyone who's alive right now. Everyone who's made it this far. We've done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back. We're not too far gone. We get to come back. I know... we all can change. "

Hershel smiles as Rick speaks. The Governor removes the katana, which gleams in the sunlight. "Liar," he breathes.

Then, it's almost as if the world stops spinning for a moment.

He swings the katana, partially decapitating Hershel. _"No!"_ I scream, mine mixing with those of Maggie and Beth.

"No!" Rick yells, and fires the first shot.

"You motherfucker!" I exclaim, pulling out my own gun as bullets begin to fly. I fire at the Governor, but can't get a decent shot. I follow through the woods as he goes around the tank, and freeze as I see him kneel next to Hershel. I can only watch, frozen in shock and horror, as he finishes Hershel off, fully decapitating the old man. I don't even realize I have the perfect opportunity to finish my job, my mission. Then, I watch as a dark haired woman appears, carrying a blonde girl about twelve years old. "Sophia," I whisper.

It takes a moment for me to realize that it's not Sophia, but another girl, leaving her mother childless. I watch as the Governor takes her in his arms, putting a bullet through her brain to keep her from reanimating.

"Go through the fences in your cars," the Governor orders, turning to his forces. "Get your guns, go in. Kill them all."

He turns, and sees me standing there. The Governor doesn't raise his gun, but I do. I don't aim it at him, but at the woman that just lost her child. I fire, wincing as I do. She drops to the ground, and I know I spared her the pain of living while her daughter's dead. The Governor doesn't say anything, still doesn't raise his gun. He stares straight at me, both of us ignoring the bullets raining down. Then, he says, "I'm gonna kill your entire group. While you watch."

And he lets me live.

* * *

I'd been in a few firefights before, but never a full out battle. As soon as Rick fired the first shot, Carl and I followed quickly. We fire down at the Governor's forces, careful not to hit Michonne as she rolls out of the line of fire. I see Rick go down behind the bus that Clary and I kept watch on our first night at the prison, and see him put his hand over his leg, where he was shot.

We can only watch as the tank rolls forward, pushing down the fences we worked so damn hard to keep up. Carl and I separate, driven apart by bullets. The tank blasts apart the prison, sending some diving for cover. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rick tackling the Governor, throwing punches. I stand behind sections of filing cabinets, using them for cover, as I exchange gunfire with at least three members of the militia.

I'm not on the look out for walkers, and I should be, because one appears next to me. I grab an iron rod that's beside me, killing it, and use the walker as a shield as I make my way forward. I pull the pin on a grenade, tossing it at the impromptu soldiers. I pull a pin on a second grenade, tossing it down the shaft of the tank. "Grenade!" the guy inside yells, climbing out.

He jumps down from the tank as the inside explodes, the force of it making him fall. When he stands, I'm there, waiting for him. He raises his hand in surrender, but I pretend not to see it as I fire my crossbow. Beth runs up beside me as he falls to the ground, my bolt in his heart. "I was trying to find the kids to get them on the bus," she explains.

"We gotta go, Beth," I tell her. "We gotta go."

And we turn and run off together, away from the prison, the only home I ever knew. The only place that I felt I truly belonged, where I got to be myself.

* * *

The Governor and I roll on the ground, and he comes up on top. He continues to punch me, though we're both losing our energy. He puts his hands around my neck, choking me, and I'm too weak to fight him off. He presses harder into my throat, and the pain is the only thing that I'm aware of as my vision starts to go black. Suddenly, the Governor gasps in pain, letting go of me. I see a sword sticking through him, and instantly recognize it as Michonne's.

She pulls her sword out of the mass murderer's chest, and he falls to the side, one hand over his punctured lung. I gasp for air, and somehow manage, "Carl? Where's Carl?"

"I don't know," Michonne replies, helping me to my feet. I stumble away from her, going to try to find Carl. I make my way up to the courtyard, calling, "Carl!" the entire way. My leg gives out from under me, and I slide, gasping in pain. I get back to my feet, yelling, "Carl!"

I make it up to the tank, and see two walkers coming around it. They stumble towards me, and two gunshots ring out in the otherwise now quiet atmosphere. The two walkers drop to the ground, and I see Carl standing behind them. "Carl!" I cry, and he runs to meet me.

I hug him close, crying on his shoulder in relief of finding him alive. "Dad," he says, his voice muffled by my shirt. "I couldn't find Clary."

"She might have already been on the bus," I lie, feeling bad as I do it. I mean, I felt bad lying to him about it earlier, but now, I feel even worse. I ask, "Where's Judy?"

"I don't know," he admits, pulling back and looking at me. He breaks away, turning to where Judith's baby carrier lays. _Judith's baby carrier! _We go over to it, only to find what I had been dreading. Blood, no baby. Carl stares at it in horror, and I break down. A lone walker starts to make its way towards us, and Carl turns, firing at the walker.

It goes down on the first shot, but my son makes his way over, unloading all of his ammunition into the walker in frustration. Even though the shotgun is empty, he continues shooting until I wrap my arms around him to stop him. He doubles over, sobbing. "We need to go," I say to my son, and he stands, still sobbing. "It's over. It's over."

I use him as a crutch as we walk away from the prison. We come to where I first observed the prison with Daryl and Clary, when it was overrun by walkers, just like it is now. Carl starts to look back, but I stop him. "Don't look back, Carl," I say, and he looks ahead. "Just keep walking."

* * *

Up ahead, I see Michonne stick her sword through the Governor's back, and he falls onto his back once she pulls it out. She helps Rick to his feet, and he stumbles towards the courtyard. Michonne looks back down at the man that killed her best friend, then turns and walks away. I lose track of her and of Rick through all the walkers and the smoke, through the destruction.

I start forward, then stop when I step on something. I look down, and see a white chess piece lying there. I pick it up, and see that it's the king, drawn with an eye patch. It's the goddamn Governor. For some reason, I take it with me as I make my way forward. I reach my destination, staring down at the Governor. I throw the chess piece down at him, and it lands on his chest, over his heart. I raise my gun, aimed at his head. "And shepherds we shall be, for thee, my Lord, for thee. Power hath descended from Thy hand, our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to thee, and teeming with souls shall it ever be. _In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti."_

And I fire the final bullet.

"Long live the queen."

* * *

**I could stop right here and make you guys go through the hiatus of a midseason finale, but not even the Governor is that mean. Also, for those of you that don't know, what Clary said at the end was the prayer from the end of _The Boondock Saints._**

**BTW, Squirrel (you know who you are), since I know you're reading this (and if you're not I'm gonna kick your ass), I just want to say thanks with the help for deciding to keep that last line in there.**

**This chapter's POVs are Rick, Clary, Daryl, Rick, and Clary finishes the chapter.**


	8. After

I walk and I walk, not stopping. _Just keep walking, _he said. So I do. I don't stop, ignoring him behind me. "Carl," my dad says. "Carl, slow down. Carl, stop!" I stop walking, not turning to face him. "We need to stay together. We gotta find a place with food, supplies." He stops next to me, resting his hand on my shoulder. "Hey, we're gonna be—"

The glare I give him makes him stop talking, and I turn and walk ahead. He follows behind me a moment late his limping steps making him slow. Soon, we come to a restaurant, and decide to check it for supplies. My dad opens the screen door, leaning against the wall for support. "Wait outside, okay?" he tells me. "Keep watch."

"You keep watch," I reply. "You can barely stand. I'm not gonna let you go in there alone."

"Excuse me?"

"We've done this before. I'm gonna help you clear it." I raise my gun, muttering, "You should just let me do it myself."

He sighs, then says, "Let's go."

I follow him in, and we break off. "Kitchen's clear," I hear him say.

He catches up to me as I start to check another room, this one having a barricade of chairs and tables. From behind the barricade, I hear a light snarling, and turn. I see a shelf full of food, but it's with the walker. "That might be all that's left," Dad says.

I follow him forward to face the walker, saying, "I can get it from here."

"No, it's weak. I'll draw it out," Dad says, picking up a hatchet from a nearby table. I follow him over, picking up the piece of paper.

_Please do what I couldn't. - Joe Jr._

I look up, realizing that this walker used to be his father. "Stay back," my father says.

He pulls out a chair, releasing the walker. He puts the hatchet in the walker's head, but he's too weak to get it in enough to kill it. "Dammit!"

The walker continues forward, my dad pushing back on it. He looks over at me, seeing my raised gun. "Don't!"

I fire anyway, killing the walker. It drops to the ground as my dad looks at me. "I said not to!"

"You couldn't do it with the ax," I reply.

"I had it. Every bullet counts. What if you needed that one later?" He sighs, turning away. "See what you can find. Then let's move on."

I watch as he walks off after pulling the hatchet out of the walker's head, and walk over to the shelf of food. I gather what I can fit in my arms, heading over to my father. "Kitchen wasn't empty after all," he says, carrying a bag. "My haul. You?"

I put my larger amount of food in the bag, saying, "I win."

* * *

"We should do something," Beth says from across the fire. I continue to stare into it, pretending not to hear her words. "We should do something," she repeats, and I look up at her. "We aren't the only survivors." I look back down into the fire. "We can't be. Rick, Michonne, they could be out here. Maggie and Glenn could've made it out of A Block. I didn't see her, but Clary could be out here."

I flinch at the name of my sister, who I'll never see again. I stare into the fire, my mind flashing with images of what happened at the prison and what could be happening to Clary right now.

"You're a tracker," Beth says, standing. "You can track. Come on. The sun will be up soon. If we head out now, we can—" She stops talking as she sees my unwillingness to track. "Fine. If you won't track, I will."

Beth picks up a knife, and turns, storming off into the night. She'll get herself killed if I don't go with her and help. I stand, putting out the fire with my boot. I grab my crossbow, and take off after her.

* * *

It's nearly dark by the time my father and I find a house, and we enter, guns raised in case of walkers. I start to walk down a hall, and Dad says, "Carl."

"I got it," I reply. "All the doors down here are open."

"Just stop!"

I turn to face him, lowering my gun. I pound my fist on the wall, yelling, "Hey, asshole! Hey, shitface!"

"Watch your mouth!" Dad barks.

"Are you kidding me?" I question. "If one of them was down there, it would've come out by now."

I go to check upstairs, my gun raised as I climb the stairs. I check the master bedroom, and find it empty. I check each of the rooms, each one clear. I come to a bedroom that I immediately claim as my own while we're here. It clearly once belonged to a teenage boy, with the skateboards, Guitar Hero, and the video games. I wander over to the television, looking at my reflection in it. I look nothing like how I used to. I've changed so much in the past two years, both physically and mentally.

I sigh, then take a thick cable from the television to tie the door shut. I go back downstairs, tying a knot in the cable to keep the door closed. I hear my dad pushing a couch behind me, and see that he's pushing it towards the door. "I tied the door shut," I say.

"We don't need to take any chances," he replies.

"You don't think it'll hold?"

"Carl."

"It's a strong knot. Clove hitch. Shane taught me. Remember him?"

"Yeah, I remember him. I remember him every day. There something else you want to say to me?"

I remain silent, helping him move the couch. My dad wheezes as he does so, and he says, "This'll have to do for the night."

He sits on the couch, pulling out some of the food that we gathered. "You gonna have some?" I ask him.

Dad holds it up to me. "You should eat."

"We should save it," I reply, picking up a blanket. He stands, following me, holding it up for me. "I don't want any."

"Eat it," he orders. "Now."

In all honesty, I've lost my appetite. After today, I feel too sick to eat anything. I go upstairs to sleep, away from my father.

* * *

I ran.

As soon as I put the bullet in his head, I ran. I didn't stop, not until I couldn't even see where I was going through my tears. I fall to my knees in the middle of a random dirt road, not even knowing where I am, and cry. "Hershel," I sob. "Oh, god."

I sob over the old man that lost his life today. He didn't deserve to die so soon. I mean, I knew it was going to happen one day, but not so soon. And not like that. He was a father or mentor to all of us. The Ben to our Peter, the Bobby to our Dean, the Dumbledore to our Harry, the Gaius to our Merlin.

I look up when I hear snarling, and see a lone walker making its way towards me. I swing my crossbow, killing it. I turn back to where I had been sitting, and something in the dirt catches my eye. Two sets of footprints, one of them had obviously been limping. "Rick," I say, knowing that he had been shot in the leg. I look at the other set, and realize that it Rick came this way, then his son would've come, too. "Carl."

I turn and begin to follow the tracks, praying that they will in fact lead me to my boyfriend and his father.

Dark starts to creep up on me as I continue, and soon, I know that I'll have to stop. I can't see anything in the dark, and the clouds cover the moon. I climb a nearby tree, settling down in it for the night.

I don't get much sleep, probably because I'm afraid someone in my group will come by and I'll miss them. Also, because I'm watching for walkers, afraid that a herd will sneak up on me.

The next morning, I continue on. When I hear gunshots, I stop in my tracks. "Carl," I whisper, and take off running.

* * *

My morning was peaceful, until I saw that my father wasn't waking up. I nudge his foot with mine, saying, "Dad."

I kneel next to him. "Dad, wake up." I shake his arm. "Wake up. Come on."

When he still doesn't wake, I start to worry. I shake him harder, saying, "Dad. Wake up!" I start to panic as he still doesn't respond, and I yell, "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!"

I immediately stop when there's a pounding on the door, and look up at it. I hear the snarling, and stand, backing away. "Oh, shit," I whisper.

I make my way out the back door, my gun drawn. I go around the house, and see two walkers attempting to get inside. I walk around back of them, looking around for any others. It's just these two. I need to lure them away, so the sound of my gunshots won't attract any more. "Hey, you," I call. "Yeah, you."

The two walkers turn to me as I say, "Fresh meat, right here. Come and get it." I begin to walk backwards and they follow me. "Let's take a walk."

I continue to walk backwards, down the road, saying things like "That's it" and "You're doing great" to keep the walkers' attention on me. I back around a tree, and I hear snarling coming from behind me instead of in front. I turn and see a walker rather close to me. "Oh, _shit!"_

I try to push the walker away, but it grabs me. So I turn and try to push it at the others, but one of the two walkers I had been luring away comes at me. I shove them off, falling to the ground in the progress. I try to scoot back, away, but I'm on the ground and the walkers have the upperhand. I kick one back, and it falls to the ground. A second walker, this one female, comes after me. I fire, killing her, and she falls on top of me. One down, two to go. The third walker appears, and I do the same to it. It falls on top of me, and now I'm stuck under a pile of dead bodies.

"Oh, shit," I say, unable to scoot back farther. The walker I had kicked down appears over me, and this time, it takes me three shots instead of one to kill it. It lands on top of the other two, the smell of decay overwhelming. I manage to scoot out from under them, picking up from gun and my hat. I look down at them, and say, "I win."

I walk out into the street, looking around. There are no other walkers to be seen. "Cool," I say.

I head back to the house to check on my dad, and find that he's still asleep. I look at my father laying on the couch. He hasn't woken up yet, and I'm almost glad that he hasn't. He'd just hold me back, put me in danger. He can't take care of anyone, can't protect anyone. Clary Dixon, my girlfriend, is dead now because my dad didn't care that the Governor knew where we were. And the Governor killed Hershel because of it. Judith, my little sister, is dead now. My friends, my group, they're dead now. Maybe... maybe it's better this way. I'm practically on my own, and I'm doing fine. I look out the window, hoping that Clary or Daryl or Glenn, or somebody, would show up. But they won't, because they're dead. Then again, there's always one tiny chance that they're still alive, that I'm not the only survivor. "A chance," I say softly as I stare out the window, thinking of all the people we've lost. "That's all I want. A chance."

I suddenly remember the CDC. _A chance_, my father had said when Doctor Jenner asked us what we wanted. _That's asking an awful lot these days_, Jenner had replied. Even a small chance nowadays is a lot to ask for. But it's something to hold onto, to keep grabbing for.

I look away from the window and back to my father. "I killed three walkers. They were at the door. They were going to get in, but I lured them away. I killed them. I saved you. I saved you! I didn't forget while you had us playing farmer. I still know how to survive. Lucky for us. I don't need you anymore. I don't need you to protect me anymore. I can take care of myself. You probably can't even protect me anyways. You couldn't protect Judith. You couldn't protect… Hershel or Glenn or Maggie. Michonne, Daryl, Clary. Or Mom. You just wanted to plant vegetables. You just wanted to hide. He knew where we were and you didn't care! You just wanted to pretend! You just hid behind those fences and waited! They're all gone now! Because of you! They counted on you! You were their leader!" I pause, then sit on the ground, leaning against the couch. "But now, you're nothing."

I hug my knees to my chest, resting my forehead on them. I glance up, and wipe my eyes, sniffling as I get to my feet. I try to keep my voice steady as I speak. "I'd be fine if you died."

I pick up the sack we use for carrying food, and go outside. I study the door of another house, wondering if it'll break open if I slam into it like in the movies. I shrug, and figure, _what the hell? Can't hurt to try. _I run up against the door, throwing my shoulder into it to open it. It doesn't work, and I fall on my back, my hat off my head. "Dammit," I mutter.

"You friggin' idiot," says a voice from behind me. I look up to see Clary standing over me, my hat on her head. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes."

I stand, looking at her in shock. "Clary?"

"No, it's Sigourney Weaver."

"Shut up, Dixon." I throw my arms around her, careful to avoid the crossbow on her back. I can tell she's smiling as she hugs me back, then kisses me. She pulls back, going to the door. I watch as Clary pulls two bobby pins from her hair, and picks the lock. "You never cease to amaze me," I say. "Anything else you can do that I don't know about?"

"Not all my tricks at one time, Cowboy," she replies with a wink, heading into the house. I stare after her, and she reappears in the doorway a moment later. "You comin' or what?"

I follow her into the house, the solar light in my hand. We raise our weapons as we go through the house, checking the first floor. We find no walkers, and go into the kitchen. We raid the canned foods, and I look up to see a huge can of chocolate pudding on top of the cabinets. "Hey," I say, getting Clary's attention.

I gesture to the can of pudding, and give her a boost up onto the counter. She picks it up, handing it down to me. Clary jumps down, saying, "We should check the rest of the house. For walkers and supplies."

"I'll check upstairs," I volunteer. "You look down here for supplies."

Clary nods, and disappears into a bathroom. I go upstairs, carrying the small sidewalk light in my hand. I picked it up because the pointed end doubles as a stake. I check the first door I come to; a bedroom, where the only dead thing is a bird. I close the door, and check the next room. I find that it's the same as the first, except there's no dead bird. I put my hand on the doorknob of the third room, listening. I twist it, and the door creaks as it partially opens. A walker suddenly appears, trying to get out. I drop the stake in surprise, trying to close the door before it can get out. I can't close the door, so I back up, drawing my gun. The walker comes out, forcing me back. I trip over my own feet, and fall backwards, firing two rounds into the ceiling. I back up into a pile of books as the walker gets closer. I fire, and hit the walker in the neck. It falls to the ground, but still moves. The walker starts to move again, and I fire, but find that I'm out of ammo. The gun clicks when I try to fire it. The walker grabs for me, and I try to scoot back, but the books block my escape. I go sideways into the other room.

"Hey, asshole!" Clary exclaims, and the walker turns to her, forgetting about me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I cry, starting to get to my feet. Clary doesn't answer, and slowly backs down the stairs to the landing, the walker following her. It suddenly lurches forward, lunging for her. Clary jumps back, but trips, failing back. The walker falls on her, and I yell, "Hey!"

The walker pays me no mind, and Clary kicks it off of her. She cries out as she does so, and the walker falls on its back. I get its attention, and it turns to me. "Clary, get out of here!" I order. "Now!"

I back into the room, then turn going to the window. I manage to get it up about eight inches, but then it sticks. I turn back around and see that the walker is almost on me. I pick up a lamp and swing it at the walker, and it goes down, but drags me with it as I try to run past, still growling. The walker grabs my leg. I try to pull away, but the walker has me good. Its teeth are less than an inch from my leg, but I manage to pull away a little. The walker now has my foot, and then my shoe comes off, still in the walker's hands. I scramble to my feet, free, and try to close the door. I knocked books over on the way into the room, and they keep it from closing as the walker gets closer. I manage to clear the doorway and slam it a second before the walker gets there. I lean against the door, panting. I look down at Clary who still sits at the landing. I say, "I told you to get out."

Clary doesn't reply, just rolls her eyes and sighs. I pick up a piece of chalk from amongst the books and write on the door, warning anyone that would come through of the walker inside: _Walker inside. Got my shoe. Almost got me. Almost got my girlfriend. Didn't get us._

I drop it on the books, then go down and sit next to Clary. "You okay?" I ask.

"I twisted my ankle when I fell," Clary replies. "Kicking the walker off didn't really help."

"C'mon," I say, standing. I help her to her feet, then pick her up. She gasps in surprise, putting her arms around my neck. I carry her downstairs, and sit her on the couch. "I'll be right back," I say.

I run into the kitchen, getting the can of chocolate pudding and two spoons. I come back, sitting next to her on the couch, the pudding behind my back. I hold it out for her. "Happy late birthday!" I exclaim. "Surprise!"

Clary grins, then laughs. "Very late."

"How late?" I inquire. "You never told me when your birthday is."

"Not that it matters now, but November," she answers. "The second."

"Yeah," I agree. "I'm kinda late."

Clary smiles at me, and we open the chocolate pudding. We take turns eating a spoonful, and I ask her, "You feel okay?"

"Yeah, why?" she replies.

"My dad said you went into A Block."

Clary looks up at me. "Rick said I went into A Block? Isolation?"

"Yeah."

Clary frowns. "More like exile."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"He didn't even tell you," Clary says, shaking her head. "Wonder if he told Daryl?"

"Told us what?" I inquire.

"Carl... I killed Karen."

"You... What?"

"Carl," Clary says slowly. "It was me. I killed Karen."

"What about David?"

"Carol. Rick banished us from the prison when he found out."

"He banished you?" I say, starting to get angry now. "Out here? By yourselves?"

"Listen to me, Carl. I get why he did it. I get why he banished us. Don't be pissed at him. He was tryin' to do what was best for you and Judith. He didn't want two killers livin' with his kids. And that's more than my dad ever did for me. So don't be mad at him."

I look up at her, understanding now. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right," Clary says, grinning at me.

"After the Governor attacked the prison," I say, "I was looking for you. Thought you were still in A Block. I couldn't find you anywhere. I thought you were dead."

"Please, me being dead is so eight months ago," Clary replies, and I start to chuckle. Eight months ago, Clary went missing at the prison with Carol, and I thought they were dead. I stop when I remember that was when my sister was born, and my mom died in the process, and Judy is dead now. My dad let me name her, so I named her after my third grade teacher. When I first found out that my mom was pregnant, I asked that if it was a girl, if we could name her Sophia. But after we thought Carol was dead, naming my sister after her daughter didn't seem right. I suggested naming her Clary, but I couldn't do that to Daryl. He's good at hiding his emotions sometimes, but this time I could see it when I looked at him. He was heartbroken after we thought that his sister died.

Clary sits the mostly empty can on the ground, leaning over to kiss me. I kiss her back, and can't help but notice that she tastes like chocolate. I find her belt loops, and use them to pull her down to me. She lies on top of me, both of us lying comfortably on the couch. We lay there, doing nothing but kissing, for a while. Then, Clary lays on me, her head on my chest, while I play with her hair. We fit together perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle.

After a while, and not really wanting to, I say, "We should be getting back."

"Mm-hmm," Clary replies. We get up, carrying food that we found back with us. We deposit it in the kitchen, then I take her upstairs to the room that I'm staying in. I look through the bookshelf, looking for something else to read, and give up after a while, not in the mood for reading. I turn to see Clary standing by the window, staring out of it. I walk over, wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my chin on her shoulder. I gently kiss her cheek, and whisper in her ear, "I love you."

"How can you?" Clary replies, her voice shaking as she continues to stare out the window. "I've killed people, Carl, and gotten people killed. And most of them, they were good people. They didn't deserve to die."

"Hey," I say softly, making her look at me. "I've killed people, too."

"Person, Carl. You've killed _one person. _I don't even know how many people I've killed. If I hadn't left Sophia alone, she wouldn't be dead and you wouldn't been shot. If I hadn't begged Daryl to let me go back, Sam would still be alive. I might as well have killed them myself. I'm not a good person, Carl. I'm dangerous. A danger. I'm a killer."

"You listen to me," I say forcefully. "You are _not_ a killer. I don't care that I was shot. The past is the past. I don't dwell on it. Neither should you. You _are_ a good person, Clary. You _are_ dangerous, and that's a good thing. It'll keep you alive."

"But for how long, Carl? How long do any of us got?" Clary closes her grey-blue eyes, shaking her head. She looks up at me. "Carl, I don't want to be the reason that you become one of them, or for your home to be in the ground."

"Hey, I'll be fine. _We'll _be fine. Don't think like that." I lean down and kiss her, wrapping my hands around her wrists to keep her from pushing me away. I pull back, looking down at her. "I love you."

She looks back at me, and whispers, "I love you, Carl."

* * *

Beth leads the way through the forest, and I follow a few feet to her right. I stop in a clearing, noticing tracks. I brush leaves out of the way, and Beth comes over. "What is it?" she asks, then looks at the tracks. They're small, like a child's. "Could be Luke's. Or Molly's. Whoever they are, it means they're alive."

"No," I say. "It means they were alive four or five hours ago."

"They're alive," Beth snaps. She turns and walks off, and I follow, sticking to the tracks. We're following them for about an hour before we come to a place where I notice the tracks change. "They picked up the pace right here. Got out in a hurry. Things went bad."

"Wouldn't kill you to have a little faith," Beth replies.

"Yeah, faith. Faith ain't done shit for us. Sure as hell didn't do nothin' for your father."

I go quiet, regretting the words. Beth stares at me, and I give her an apologetic look. She turns to a nearby grape vine and starts picking the fruit. "They'll be hungry when we find them," she explains.

I pull a handkerchief out of my back pocket, holding it out to her. I tap her shoulder, and she takes it, not looking at me. Beth picks a few more grapes, then follows me as we continue on. We stop when we see the bodies of dead walkers, and I see blood on a nearby leaf. "What is it?" Beth inquires.

"That ain't walker blood," I tell her.

"The trail keeps going," she says, stepping over a walker on the ground. "They fought 'em off."

"No," I tell her. "Got walker tracks all up and down here. At least a dozen of 'em."

I turn away, looking for any other signs, hoping that they did fight them off. I stop moving, and listen. Branches rustle, and I hear snarling and Beth gasp at the same time. Beth struggles to free herself from the walker, and I turn, raising my crossbow. I can't fire, because I'm afraid I'll hit her. I drop my crossbow, grabbing my knife. I can't get it out, and Beth's still struggling, so I grab it and pull it off of her. I throw it to the ground, kneeling on top of it, while Beth grabs her knife. I roll over, holding it in place while she stabs it. I push it off of me, getting to my feet. I pick my crossbow up and start off, saying, "Come on."

I see a clearing up ahead, so I lead the way to it, and find train tracks. Down a ways from us, walkers feed on bodies. Prison survivors. I take care of them while Beth stares at them. I pick up my crossbow and arrows, heading over to the tracks. Behind me, I hear Beth start to cry over the dead.

I turn to look at her, but don't do anything. I silently curse myself, because I know that if it were Clary standing there, sobbing, I wouldn't even hesitate. I turn away, taking a few steps, then stop. I put my crossbow down, walking over to Beth. I gently take her arm, leading her away. "Come on," I tell her softly. "There's nothing we can do."

* * *

Clary and I lay side by side in the bed, and I lean over her, kissing her. She wraps her arms around my neck, her fingers lightly brushing my neck. It seems like all we've been doing since we were reunited is kissing, but I'm not arguing. I pull back after a moment, looking down at her. In the moonlight, her eyes appear more grey, her face paler than usual. Her hair's so dark in blends in with the shadows. I can't help but to say, "You're beautiful, Cheyenne."

She smiles, blushing, as I lay down beside her. My girlfriend curls up against my chest, but a minute later, Clary sits straight up. "What was that?"

"What was what?" I ask, not hearing or seeing anything. I remember that she has better hearing than I do; she spent her entire life hunting. "What'd you hear?"

"The thump. There was a thump downstairs."

"Stay here," I say as I get out of the bed, reaching for my gun.

"Ca—"

"Stay here, Clars."

Clary looks down, and I realize that I called her what Daryl used to call her. I give her an apologetic smile, then turn and make my way downstairs. I stop on the second step from the bottom, the sight making my blood run cold. My dad was on the floor, crawling slowly towards the stairs, his breathing raspy. "Dad?" I ask. "Dad?"

He's closer now, and I aim my gun at him, but I can't shoot him. I start to back up, but my foot misses the step and I fall on my back. "Dad!" I cry, my voice breaking. "Dad, I'm sorry. I was wrong." He's starting to crawl up the stairs, and I feel a tear run down my cheek. I lower the gun, unable to pull the trigger. "Dad, I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Carl." My eyes widen as I hear my dad whisper my name. His arms give out and he falls onto the stairs, looking up at me. "Carl, stay safe. Don't go outside."

I scoot down a step, and wrap my arms around his shoulders. I rest my head on his, tears still running down my cheeks. I thought my dad was a walker. A walker. I hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and my dad reaches for his gun. "Carl?" I hear Clary ask, and my father releases his gun. "Rick?"

* * *

"I told you not to come back," Rick growls, pulling away from Carl. "I don't want you or Carol at the prison, or anywhere with us."

"You listen to me, you arrogant dick," I snap. "That was not your call to make. Like back at the prison, with Michonne, handing her over to the Governor. That was not your call to make. But you did it anyway, and now my brother's dead because of it."

Carl glares at his father, standing. He walks upstairs, leaving his father and I alone. Rick looks like he wants to say something, but I cut him off. "You want to banish Carol and me for killin' two people, but then try and let the Governor live with us?" I scoff. "Yeah, great idea, Rick. You failed to see the devil beside you."

"I saw him, alright," he calls after me as I climb the stairs. I turn and look back at him. "I saw him kill Hershel and Axel and our friends. I saw him destroy our home, our safe haven."

"And yet you wanted to let him live with us? After all that?" I shake my head. "Yet you banish us. I stuck by you through everything. You killed Shane so he wouldn't kill us. I took Shane on in a fight, even though I knew I had a snowball's chance of winning, so he wouldn't kick your ass. I was done with gettin' my ass kicked by the time my dad died, but I let Shane do it so you wouldn't get your ass kicked. And when we lost Sophia, I took all the blame. I was gonna get her someplace safe, then kill the walkers. I had it all planned out, and then you showed up. Ricky the idiot, tryin' to be a hero and save two girls. We didn't need you to follow us, and Sophia'd still be 'live if you hadn't followed us in the woods."

Rick is silent. He seems frozen in shock at my words, and I think I am, too. I'd never said anything like that to anyone, except for Daryl when I found out he was ready to hit Carol back on the farm. But I hadn't blamed him for a little girl's death. I suddenly remembered Sophia's words: _You remind me of Two-Bit, Clary_. Maybe I was one of the greasers of _The Outsiders_, like Sophia said, but I wasn't Two-Bit. I was Dally. I hardened myself and kept my emotions stored up inside. And I finally cracked. My brothers always took out their anger on whatever or whoever was closest, and I guess I'm like them in that way. I'm yelling at Rick, taking it all out on him.

I turn and run up the stairs, back to the room I share with Carl. "Sorry for leaving," he says, standing. "I heard what you said."

"How much?" I ask him.

"All of it."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Carl agrees. "I didn't know you had it in you to say something like that."

"Neither did I," I whisper, looking down. I don't have it in me to say something like that and not apologize immediately, which is why I ran off. I don't have it in me to say something like that to a friend, especially one that's saved my life on numerous occasions. "I think I'm gonna go to sleep."

I step around him, lying on the bed, my back to him. He lays down beside me, putting arm around me. Even though I want to curl up beside him, I remain still, pretending that I don't know he's there. I eventually fall asleep, but it only brings nightmares. Or memories. Whichever you prefer to call them.

* * *

**This chapter's POVs are Carl, Daryl, Carl, Clary, Carl, Daryl, Carl, and Clary finishes the chapter.**


	9. Love and War

Carl, Michonne, and I sit around a table in the dining room. She showed up this morning while Carl, Rick, and I were talking. Michonne escaped on her own, and found us on the second day following the fall of the prison. She showed up at the door, holding an empty one hundred-twelve ounce can of chocolate pudding.

Carl and I look at her, trying not to laugh at seeing her in the large shirt. "Do you have something to say about my extremely comfortable and attractive shirt?" Michonne inquires.

"No, no, no," Carl tells her. "It looks great." He points to a button on her shirt. "You missed one."

"God, Carl," I joke. "You're so inconsiderate. You never say anything about my shirts."

"That's because you always look hot in them," he replies, grinning. Michonne wiggles her eyebrows at us, sitting down. "And, wow, Dixon. Five syllables."

"Ha ha," I reply, knowing he's just picking on me for being a redneck. "Fuck you."

"That's more like it," Carl says, and I kick his leg underneath the table. He leans closer to me and whispers, "You wish."

Michonne smiles at us, not hearing or noticing his whisper. "What a cute couple."

"Shut up, 'chonne," I tell her as she pours her cereal. She says, "Wish we had some soy milk."

"Soy milk?" Carl asks. "Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," Michonne replies. "Have you ever tried it?"

"My best friend in third grade, he was allergic to dairy. So every day, he'd bring to soy stuff to lunch. I tried it."

"And?"

"I threw up."

"Oh, yeah, right."

"Alright, alright. I almost threw up. But it was so gross. I mean, literally, I would rather have powdered milk than to drink that stuff again. I would rather have Judith's formula—"

Carl cuts himself off, realizing he mentioned his dead sister. I start to lay my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off, standing. He mutters something about finishing his book, and walks off.

"Carl," I say softly, standing. He's already upstairs when I reach our room. I enter to find him leaning against a wall, crying. I wrap my arms around him, and he turns to me, like when Lori died. He rests his head on my shoulder, which is a bit awkward because he's a few inches taller than me. "This was a bit easier before," he says, thinking the same thing. "You know, before I got taller."

"I know I'm short. Shut up," I say. Carl laughs, pulling back from me. I brush his hair back, leaning up to kiss his forehead. My gaze drops to his lips for half a second, then I look back up at his forehead. I look up at him as I pull away, then glance at the poster on the wall behind him. I chuckle, saying, "Holy shit."

"What?" Carl inquires, turning to look at the poster. "Is that Daryl?"

"No," I say. "Murphy MacManus." He looks at me, confused. "_Boondock Saints._ It's a movie about two brothers that fight crime. My favorite, actually. Daryl used to get a kick out of it, since he looks like Murphy."

Carl nods his agreement. "So who's the other one? And what's with the tattoos?"

"Connor," I say. "He's Murphy's twin. The tattoos, _veritas_ and _aequitas._ They're Latin, meaning 'truth' and 'justice.' I have one of _aequitas, _despite Murphy being the one with it."

Carl looks at me. "You have a tattoo? Why does that not surprise me?" I shrug, lifting up the bottom of my shirt to show him the tattoo around my hip. "You know," he says. "It makes sense, you having _aequitas_ and not _veritas._ You're the Dixon that would bring justice. Daryl have _veritas_?"

"He was going to get it," I tell him. "But never got around to it."

Carl chuckles, leaning against the windowsill. "Everyone has a different guess, you know. About what you and Daryl did."

"What's yours?"

"Hunters. Like, not _Supernatural_ hunters, but hunters. As in you hunted deer and stuff."

"Well, you ain't wrong. We hunted, but not all the time. Daryl and me? We were the fucking Boondock Saints."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You serious?"

"Yep. I mean, I don't like to talk about it, 'cause it's a lot of heavy shit."

"You have to be kidding." I shake my head at him. "Come on. Really?" I nod, not saying anything. "I'll keep guessing then."

"You do that, Cowboy," I tell him with a smile. I take his hat off of his head, putting it on mine.

"Hey," Carl says. He reaches for it, but I step backwards, out of the way. "That's mine."

"If you want it, come and get it," I reply with a wink, both daring him and flirting with him at the same time. With that, I take off running. Carl chases me through the house, while Michonne watches us. Carl catches me just as I reach the living room, his arms around my waist. I try to run, but he lifts me up. When my feet leave the ground, I whine, "No fair!"

"All's fair in love and war," he replies. Carl kisses me, then takes his hat back. "It's mine."

From her spot on the couch, Michonne watches us. She laughs, and we look over at her, smiling. "Rule number thirty-two," she says, smiling. "Enjoy the little things."

* * *

Beth and I sit across from each other in an abandoned house, moonshine from its still in between us. We sit on the floor in the living room, and Beth somehow managed to talk me into playing a drinking game. "So, first I say something I've never done, and if you have done it, you drink," she explains. "If you haven't done it, I drink. Then we switch. You really don't know this game?"

"I never needed a game to get lit before," I reply.

"Wait, are we starting?" Beth inquires.

"How do you know this game?"

"My friends played. I watched. Okay, I'll start. I've never shot a crossbow. So now you drink because you have."

"Ain't much of a game," I tell her, but take a drink.

"That was a warm up. Now you go."

"I don't know," I say.

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head."

"I've never been out of Georgia."

"Really? Okay, good one." Beth drinks. "I've never been drunk and did something I regretted."

"Done lots of things," I murmur, taking a long drink.

"Your turn," Beth says, taking my mind off my past.

"I've never been on vacation."

"What about camping?"

"That was just something I had to learn to hunt," I tell her.

"Your dad teach you?"

"Mm-hmm. My uncle, too. Taught me, Merle, and—" I suddenly stop, unable to say Clary's name. "Taught me and Merle everything."

Beth's quiet for a moment, then takes a drink. "I've never… been in jail. I mean, as a prisoner."

I look at her, wondering if that's who she takes me for. "That what you think of me?"

"I didn't mean anything serious. I just thought, you know, the drunk tank. Even my dad got locked up for that back in the day."

"Drink up," I tell her.

"Wait," she says. "Prison guard. Were you a prison guard?"

"No," I say, noticing what a happy little drunk she is. The exact opposite of me, the same as Clary. Well, Clary's not as happy of a drunk, but she's a happy drunk. Most of the time.

"It's your turn again," Beth reminds me.

I ignore her, standing. "I'm gonna take a piss."

I walk over to another part of the house, dropping the jar of moonshine as I go. "You have to be quiet," Beth hisses.

"Can't hear you," I call, loudly in response. "I'm taking a piss."

"Daryl! Don't talk so loud," she scolds.

"What, are you my chaperone now?" I snap. I redo my belt as I turn, saying, "Oh, wait, it's my turn, right? I never, uh, never eaten frozen yogurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nothing from Santa Claus. Never relied on anyone for protection before. Hell, I don't think I've ever relied on anyone for anything!"

"Daryl," Beth says, looking at me from her spot on the floor. I'm taking my anger out on her and I know it, but I can't stop.

"Never sung in front of a big group out in public like everything was fun!" I continue. "Like everything was a big game! I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention!"

In response to my raised voice, the walker outside the house starts growling. "Looks like our friend out there is trying to call all his buddies."

"Daryl, just shut up!" Beth hisses.

"Hey, you never shot a crossbow before?" I inquire, taking mine off the wall. "I'm gonna teach you right now." I take her hand, roughly pulling her to her feet. "Come on. It's gonna be fun."

I kick the door open, pulling her out of the house behind me. "We should stay inside!" Beth exclaims. "Daryl! Cut it out! Daryl!"

The walker turns away from the window, to us. "Dumbass," I say, getting its attention. "Come here, dumbass."

I fire my crossbow, pinning it to a tree. "You want to shoot?" I ask, reloading my crossbow.

"I don't know how," she replies.

"Oh, it's easy," I say. "Come here. Right corner."

I put my arm around her and the crossbow, firing it as she struggles to break free. "Let's practice later!" she tells me as I release her.

I reload it, saying, "Come on. It's fun."

"Just stop it," Beth says. I put my arm around her again, doing the same as before. I aim my crossbow, firing it at the walker. I still don't kill it, just pin it to the tree in multiple places. "Just kill it! Daryl!"

"Come here, Greene," I say, starting forward. "Let's pull these out. Get a little more target practice."

Beth runs to the walker and stabs it before I can reach it. "What'd you do that for?" I ask her. "I was having fun."

"No, you were being a jackass!" Beth shoots back. "If anyone found my dad—"

"Don't," I say, cutting her off. "That ain't even remotely the same."

"Killing them is not supposed to be fun."

"What do you want from me, girl, huh?"

"I want you to stop acting like you don't give a crap about anything. Like nothing we went through matters. Like none of the people we lost meant anything to you. It's bullshit!"

"That what you think?"

"That's what I know."

"You don't know nothing," I snap back.

"I know you look at me and you just see another dead girl. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. I'm not _Clary_. You can't even say her name. I survived and you don't get it 'cause I'm not like you or them. I ain't Clary. I know you look at me and you see her. Thing is, I made it and you don't get to treat me like crap just because you're afraid."

"I ain't afraid of nothin'," I tell her, but it's a lie. The one thing that I am afraid of? Seeing Clary dead.

"I remember," Beth says. "I remember when that little girl walked out of the barn, right after my mom. You were like me." I look away, remembering everything that I did for Sophia, while she was dead the whole time. I remember all the pain it caused Clary and Carol. "And now God forbid you ever let anyone get too close."

"Too close, huh? You know all about that. You lost two boyfriends and you can't even shed a tear. Your whole family's gone and all you do is go out lookin' for booze like some dumb college bitch."

"Screw you. You don't get it."

"No, you don't get it!" I yell at her. "Everyone we know is dead!"

"You don't know that!"

"Might as well be, 'cause you ain't never gonna see 'em again! Rick. You ain't never gonna see Maggie again."

"Daryl, just stop!"

"No!" I bark, turning away from her touch. "The Governor rolled right up to our gates. Maybe if I wouldn't have stopped lookin'. Maybe 'cause I gave up. That's on me."

"Daryl."

"No," I say, a small break in my voice. "And your dad. Maybe—maybe I could've done somethin'." Beth hugs me from behind, resting her head between my shoulder blades. The exact same thing Clary does. I want to pull away from her, but it's the closest I'm gonna get to being with Clary. I look down, but reach up to the pocket with Clary's letter in. "Maybe if I had gone lookin' for meds sooner, they wouldn't be dead. She wouldn't be gone."

"What?" Beth asks in a whisper.

"Clary," I say, barely holding back a sob. "It was her. And Carol. It was them. Maybe if I had gone lookin' for the meds sooner, they wouldn't have killed them. And now they're gone, too. Even if we hadn't lost the prison, I ain't never gonna see her again."

Beth doesn't say anything, just keeps her arms around me while I sob. I break away from her, sinking to the ground with my head in my hands. She kneels next to me, hugging me again. "I didn't know it was them," she says softly.

"Rick kicked them out of the prison," I say, staring at the walker still pinned against the tree. "The last time I saw her, it was before I went on the run. And you know what I told her? That I wanted to put a bolt in 'em for what they did. I didn't know it was her then. But the way she looked at me, I didn't realize it then. I do now. She was scared of me."

* * *

Clary and I follow Carl and Michonne out of the house. "How long do you think you'll be?" I inquire.

"Fill a couple bags," Michonne answers. "Shouldn't be too long."

I look down at the watch Carol gave me. "It's eight-fifteen now," I tell them.

"We'll be back by noon."

I turn to Carl. "Alright, you follow her lead. Understand?"

I offer him the Python, and he takes it, tucking it under the waistband of his jeans. "Hey," I say, and he looks up at me. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Carl replies. He looks at Clary. "Later, MacManus."

She rolls her eyes, then gently pushes him towards the steps. "Get goin', Grimes."

Carl grins at her, then turns and walks off with Michonne. "MacManus?" I ask.

Clary simply shrugs, walking inside. I follow her in, closing the door behind me. She gestures for me to move, and I step aside. She pushes the couch against the door, closing it against walkers. Clary disappears into the kitchen, and returns with two bottles of water. I catch the one she tosses me, and she starts up the stairs. "Cheyenne," I say, and she stops.

Clary looks at me, still standing on the steps. She doesn't say anything, just looks at me, studying me. "I'm…" I glance down, then back up at her. "I'm sorry, Cheyenne. I shouldn't have kicked you and Carol out."

"Damn straight," Clary says. The first words she's directly said to me since she snapped at me last night, blaming me for Sophia's death. She looks down, walking down the stairs and stopping a few feet away. Clary looks back up at me, her hand brushing over her right leg, where she was shot back on the farm. "Look, Rick, you know me. I wouldn't kill someone in cold blood, and neither would Carol. We were trying to stop it from spreading. Did a hell of a lot of good, didn't it?" She sighs. "You have to understand, it wasn't like it was when I killed Tony. You may have forgotten their names, but I haven't. Dave and Tony. One of the first people I killed. I remember all of them. That girl that was bit when I met Glenn. Tony. That girl back at Woodbury. Karen. The Governor's soldiers. That poor woman that lost her kid. The Governor. I think about them every single day, and they haunt me at night. I hate myself for—"

"For what you did," I interrupt. "I know. And you're sorry for it. For everything that you've ever done. I believe you."

"You read the letter," Clary guesses. "It was for Daryl."

"He was the one that told me to read it," I say. "I didn't… I didn't believe him when he said you were sorry. Practically threw the note at me. 'Read it for yourself.' That's what he said. I read it. I understand, Clary. You did it for your friends, your family. You were trying to protect them. And I admire you for that. For having the courage to do that."

"Don't admire me," Clary snaps, but not harshly. "I ain't someone that should be admired. I ain't a hero."

"I never said you were."

"Good," she says. She turns to climb the stairs, then looks back at me. "And, Rick, I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't've snapped at you last night. It was uncalled for. I just… I needed someone to take this… this anger out on, and at that moment, you seemed perfect for it."

"It wasn't entirely uncalled for," I tell her. "I mean, I did banish you from the prison. Make you go into exile. I'm just glad I was here for you to yell at."

Clary dips her head in a nod, then turns and climbs the stairs. "It was your courage," I call after her, and she stops at the landing, looking down at me. "I don't admire you as a hero. I admire you for the courage that you have, for doing something when no one else wanted to. You say you're not a hero, but you're not a villain, either. Thing is, both have courage. It just… it takes more to do the right thing. You've got spunk."

"Spunk, huh?" Clary replies with a chuckle. "Whatever you say, Sheriff."

"Hey, we good?"

"We're good."

* * *

I wake to the sound of a man screaming, and I gasp, thinking it's Rick. Then, I realize, that it's not his voice, and I immediately cover my mouth with my hand. There's multiple men downstairs, laughing as one of them moans in pain. I hear one of the voices getting louder and footsteps, and whisper, "Oh, _shit!"_

I grab my crossbow and my book, scrambling to hide under the bed. From my hiding spot, I can see a man enter another room across the hall. I realize I forgot my water bottle, and if they see it, then they'll know that there's people here. I grab it, ducking back under the bed just as he exits the room, and enters mine.

I hold my breath as he walks around, the comes over to the bed. He carries a gun, I notice, and I don't miss the blood on his boots. It ain't walker blood, either. He kicks my jacket, looking to see if it's useful, then leaves. Judging by the sound of his footsteps, he enters the master bedroom. Where Rick's at. No other sound follows, so I assume that Rick is hidden as well.

I wait for a while, then decide to try to find Rick, if I can. I scoot out from under the bed, but go back under it as someone climbs the stairs. He walks into the master bedroom, and I freeze upon hearing knocking. "Yo," he says. "Comfy?"

"You waking me up to see if I'm comfortable?" a second man replies.

"I want to lie down."

"Two other bedrooms up here to choose."

"Them's kids' beds. I want this one."

"It's claimed."

"I didn't hear it. You're gonna have to lay claim somewhere else."

"Just 'cause you want it doesn't change anything. It's still claimed," the second man says. I hear sounds of a struggle, and what sounds like a man being strangled. It goes quiet, and I hear the sound of a bed creaking as one of the two lays back down on it. The first one says, "My bed now, jackass."

Not long after, I decide if I have any chance of escaping, I need to do it now. Before any of the others come up, and I don't know how many there are. There could be just three, or it could be a whole group. Before I can move, however, a third man comes into the room. I hold my breath, not wanting to be heard as he enters. I immediately recognize the boots, as well as the footsteps. I breath out in relief—it's Rick. Before I can say anything to alert him that I'm here, a third member of the group enters, bouncing a ball along the floor. Rick hides behind a wall, and I stay under the bed. He leaves after a moment, and I hear Rick whisper, "Clary?"

"I'm here," I whisper, crawling out from under the bed. I grab my jacket, shrugging it on and throwing my crossbow over my shoulder. We try to open the windows to exit through them, but none open. Below, there's shouts of "claim!" and the first man yells at them to shut up. "There's a woman shacking up in here," calls one of the men. "Come on down."

"She hot?" the first man replies, and I grab Rick's wrist, pulling him behind the door. We need to leave, because I know exactly who these people are. What kind of people they are, anyways. They're like Randall's group, Dave and Tony's group. The kind of people that rape young girls while their father is forced to watch, and then laugh about it afterwards. Hell, for all I know, these people could be what's left of Dave and Tony's group. They find us, Rick's dead, and well, I'm gonna wish I were.

Rick takes my hand, giving me a look that says, _We'll get out of this_. He leads the way out of the room, a trophy in hand for a weapon. I follow him into the master bedroom, and see he's going after the gun. Someone climbs the stairs, saying point blank that he's getting the gun we want. I pull Rick into the bathroom, since we can't make it to the bedroom.

We turn to see a man in there with us, and Rick hits him in the gut. He puts his arms around him, using the strap of a machine gun to strangle him. The man struggles against him, reaching for the scissors on the counter. I grab them, and Rick falls to the ground, still struggling with the man. His arms flail, and having practiced stomping walker's skulls in, I bring my foot down hard enough to at least fracture his arm. I kick him in the stomach, and not long after, he goes still, dead. Rick grabs the gun from him as I pull out my knife. "No," Rick whispers. "Let him turn."

So, I gently open the door, just enough that the walker could open it. Rick opens the window, and tosses a jacket out onto the roof. He crawls out, while I watch for any of the group to come. I climb out of the window after him, looking around while he puts on his jacket. We look down over the roof, to the porch below us. Rick starts to slide off the roof first, me still keeping watch for him. He lowers himself down, dropping into a crouch as soon as he lands. "Let me show you how it's done," I tell him, my voice quiet.

I drop off the roof like a spy in a movie, and Rick rolls his eyes at me. We sneak down the porch, and around the house. We crouch below the front porch, waiting for the man that has come out to leave. However, he must be a stubborn bastard, because he sits on the porch railing, eating. I look out to see if Carl and Michonne are on their way back, and my stomach drops when I see that they are. I turn to Rick, gesturing out to the road. He nods, understanding that I was looking for the two. Very, very quietly, I whisper, "I'll take him out. Then, we sneak over to Carl and Michonne."

Rick nods, and I put my crossbow on my shoulder, ready to fire when I stand. I don't have to, because there's screaming from inside the house. The man gets up, running inside. Rick and I take off, seeing our chance. "Go! Go!" he hisses as we meet Carl and Michonne. "Go!"

We follow him out of the town and onto the railroad tracks. We start walking down them, just following the tracks to wherever they lead. It's a metaphor; all roads lead somewhere, but they always end, too. Life is the same way. It leads somewhere, and you don't know where until the moment you experience it. And life ends, too. Whether it's short and sweet, or long and hard.

* * *

Beth and I sit on the porch of the moonshine still house, the moon providing light for us. "I get why my dad stopped drinking," Beth says.

"You feel sick?" I inquire.

"Nope. I wish I could feel like this all the time. That's bad."

"You're lucky you're a happy drunk," I tell her.

"Yeah, I'm lucky," she agrees. "Some people can be real jerks when they drink."

"Yeah, I'm a dick when I'm drunk." I look over at her. "Merle had this dealer. This janky little white guy. A tweaker. One day we were over at his house watching TV. Wasn't even noon yet, and we were all wasted. Merle was high. We were watching this show and Merle was talking all this dumb stuff about it. And he wouldn't let up. Merle never could. Turns out, it was the tweaker's kids' favorite show. And he never sees his kids, so he felt guilty about it or something. So he punches Merle in the face. So I started hitting the tweaker, like hard, as hard as I can. Then he pulls a gun. Sticks it right here." I hold my hand up to my temple. "Says, 'I'm gonna kill you, bitch.' So Merle pulls his gun on him. Everyone's yelling. I'm yelling. I thought I was dead. Over a dumb cartoon about a talking dog."

"How'd you get out of it?" Beth inquires, interested.

"The tweaker punched me in the gut," I tell her. "I puked. They both started laughing and forgot all about it."

"Where was Clary?"

"Not sure. Probably at her friend Sam's house. It was a good thing she wasn't there. If she had, tweaker would've been dead." I look at Beth. "You want to know what I was before all this? I was just drifting with Merle, takin' care of Clary. I was nobody. Nothing. Some redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother, and was overprotective of his little sister."

"It's not exactly a bad thing nowadays," Beth says. I shrug. "You miss him, don't you?" I don't say anything. "I miss Maggie. I miss her bossing me around. I miss my big brother Shawn. He was so annoying and overprotective."

"Jesus, you are Clary," I tell her, knowing full well how overprotective of Clary I am, and she laughs.

"I miss my dad," Beth says, her voice breaking a little. "I hoped he'd just live the rest of his life in peace, you know? I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby. And he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and holidays and summer picnics. And he'd get really old. And it'd happen, but it'd be quiet. It'd be okay. He'd be surrounded by the people he loved." She laughs to keep from crying, and her voice breaks as she says, "That's how unbelievably stupid I am."

"That's how it was supposed to be," I tell her.

"I wish I could just… change."

"You did."

"Not enough. Not like you. It's like, you were made for how things are now."

"I'm just used to it. Things being ugly. Growing up in a place like this."

"You got away from it."

I shake my head. "I didn't."

"You did."

"Maybe you gotta keep on reminding me sometimes."

"No. You can't depend on anyone for anything, right? I'll be gone someday."

"Stop."

"I will. You'll be the last man standing," Beth says, and I shake my head. "You are."

That's the thing; I don't want to be the last one standing. I'd rather die than be the last of my group. My group members, they've become my family. I don't want to watch my family die, then live knowing that maybe, just maybe, I could've done something. I could have gone on that run sooner so that Clary and Carol wouldn't have killed Karen and David, so they wouldn't have gotten exiled. Now, I'll never see them again, and they're probably dead. I won't be the last man standing, because I won't let it happen. Bob was the last man standing, twice, and I don't want to become like him. Someone that drank just to escape the quietness of being alone. Clary wouldn't want me like that, and neither would Carol. Beth's wrong; someone else will bear the curse of being the last man standing, and I won't allow myself to be the cursed one.

"You're gonna miss me so bad when I'm gone, Daryl Dixon," Beth says.

"You ain't a happy drunk at all," I finally say.

"Yeah, I'm happy. I'm just not blind. You got to stay who you are, not who you were. Places like this, you have to put it away."

"What if you can't?"

"You have to. Or it kills you." She gestures to her heart. "In here."

"Don't you dare start quoting Sirius Black," I tell her, and Beth looks at me, confused. "_Harry Potter?_"

She shakes her head. "Never read 'em or watched 'em."

I take a drink, noticing that she said "never," which causes Beth to laugh. "I only watched 'em, with Clary, but there's one quote that I remember from the third one. 'The ones that love us never really leave us. You can always find them—'" I place my hand over my heart like Sirius placed his hand over Harry's. "'—in here.'"

"That did sound a little bit like Sirius," Beth agrees.

I look away, out into the darkness. "We should go inside."

"We should burn it down," Beth says with a laugh. Lovely. Drunk Beth is an arsonist. I stand, picking up my jar of moonshine. I turn to look at her. "We're gonna need more booze."

Together, we dump the entire supply of moonshine throughout the house, making it flammable. We stand out a few feet from the house, and I hold out the matches to Beth. "Wanna?"

"Hell yeah," she replies. I hold out a wad of money, and she sets it on fire. I let it catch a second before throwing it into the house. The moonshine immediately catches fire, burning with the house.

I stare at the flames, at the burning house, and the only thing that I can think is _This is what Clary would have done. If she were here, she'd burn this place to the ground. And get a kick out of it._

I glance over at Beth, and see her standing there, flipping the house off. She hits my arm, silently telling me to do it, too. I roll my eyes, but raise my hand in a moonshine salute.

We stand there for a minute or two, then turn to leave when the walkers start to arrive. Beth turns away first, not looking back as she walks off. I can't help but smile as I turn my back on my past.

* * *

**This chapter's POVs are Clary, Daryl, Rick, Clary, and Daryl finishes the chapter.**


	10. Until the Very End

Rick, Michonne, Carl, and I sit around a fire, still on our way to Terminus, a supposed safe haven. Coming across a sign for it after fleeing the house, we decided that it's a good a place as any to go to. Once we're there, the first thing that I'll do is try to find Daryl, and the rest of our group.

"How hungry are you, on a scale of one to ten?" Rick inquires, looking at his son.

Carl looks up at him. "Fifteen."

Rick grins, and looks over at Michonne. "Twenty-eight," she tells him.

"What about you?" Rick asks me.

"Thirty-nine," I say with a grin.

"Well, it's been a while," Rick says, pouring us all beans. "I'm gonna go check the snares."

"Can I go with you?" Carl inquires.

"How else you gonna learn?" I raise my hand. "Point taken." Rick puts out the fire, looking at Michonne and I. "Same with you two."

Michonne stands, and I put my beans down on the ground. "But I didn't get to finish my beans," I pout.

"We'll be back," Rick says, picking up a bag. I lead the way, knowing where we set the snares the night before. "We'll stay another day or two," he tells us. "Get some more rest."

"Finish healing up?" Michonne adds.

"I'm almost there."

"We're close now, right?" Carl asks.

"To Terminus?" Rick replies, and Carl nods. "Yeah."

"When we get there, are we gonna tell them?"

"Tell them what?" Michonne inquires.

"Everything that's happened to us," Carl answers. "All the stuff we've done. Are we gonna tell them the truth?"

"We're gonna tell them who we are," Rick says.

"But… how do you say that? I mean… who are we?"

We're quiet for a moment, and I'm the one to break the silence. "Team Free Will. One badass with a sword, one kid in a cowboy hat, Mr. Comatose over there, and one redneck with six bucks to her name and a give-'em-hell attitude. It's awesome."

"It's not funny," Carl replies.

"I ain't laughing."

Before we can say anything else, there's a growling up ahead. A lone walker stumbles through the woods towards us, and Michonne steps forward, drawing her katana. We follow, weapons raised, in case there are more. When we find that there are none, I continue on to the traps we set.

"Got one," I say as we near the first trap. "Rick, it's all yours."

"It's a small one," he reports, taking the dead rabbit out of the trap he set. "It'll do." Rick puts it in his bag, then turns to Carl. "So, this is a simple slipknot. Tie one on both ends, then you tighten one side to a branch. Now, you see how the ground here is sort of like a funnel shape?"

"It's a trail?" Carl guesses.

"Right." Rick shows Carl how to set the trap while redoing it himself. "That's where you want to set the noose. You hide it with leaves. Then, you put sticks all around it so any animals going by have to run this way, right into the trap." He looks up at me, pulling the string off his wrist. "Am I doing this right?"

I give him a thumbs up. "I have taught you well, young Jedi."

Just as I say that, in the distance, a man screams for help. Carl is the first one to react, taking off towards the sound. "Carl," Rick starts, but Carl ignores him. "Carl, stop!"

He takes off, and I take off after him, Rick and Michonne following closely behind. "Carl!" I call. "Stop! Goddammit!"

Carl stops as he reaches the clearing, and I see a man surrounded by the walkers. More than anyone could fight off at once. He raises his gun, but I immediately push it down, knowing the shots will bring all those walkers to us. Rick pulls him away, while Carl tries to fight back, trying to free himself. "We can't help him," Rick said. "There's nothing we can do for him now."

I look at Rick, and suddenly the necklace that I always wear weighs heavily on my shoulders. It carries the ring of my best friend before all this shit, him giving it to me on the day he died. Those words, _nothing we can do for him now_, are the same words Daryl said to me after I watched him go down under a pile of walkers, just like this guy now.

A walker has noticed us, and is making its way forward, followed by a few others. "Oh, hell with it," I say, pulling out my own gun.

I fire, taking down two of the walkers before Michonne grabs my arm and pulls me along with her. We run towards the train tracks not far away, not even going back for our supplies, followed by the dead. We stop for a second when we see a small group of about four up ahead. We take them down with ease, then we look behind ourselves to see the number of walkers increasing. "Let's go," Rick says.

I pull my arrow out of a walker's head as we follow our leader, him taking control once again. We run away from the tracks, down a road that Michonne picks out. The four of us lose the walkers, but I still look over my shoulder, watching for them. "Thought maybe there'd be some houses down this way," Michonne says. "Maybe even a store. There's got to be some food around here somewhere."

"Hey, look," Carl says, and I turn my attention away from the road behind us. Down the road a ways, an abandoned truck is parked. A door is open, a bullet in the windshield, and the front pretty much destroyed, but it looks like a good a place as any to set up shelter for the night.

We draw our weapons as we approach, Michonne taking care of the walker lying not too far away.

* * *

Carl and I sit in the backseat of the truck, trying to get some sleep, but failing. I sit curled up next to him, my head resting on his shoulder, with his arm around me. I shift, trying to get a little more comfortable. Carl reaches over, gently brushing my hair out of my face. Outside, sitting around a fire, Rick and Michonne talk. "That was one small rabbit," Rick says.

"It was something," Michonne says. "Got to hand it to the thing. It travelled well."

"Have you noticed that's all we talk about anymore? Food. I forgot what this feels like."

"Me, too," Michonne agrees. "I hope we're able to forget again soon."

"We're close," Rick tells her. "Just got to make it through another day." He puts out the fire with his foot, relying on the moon for light. "If the folks there are taking people in, they have to be strong. They have to have a system."

Michonne lowers her voice, thinking that Carl and I can't hear, but I can. "I wonder if the whole thing's legit."

In the woods, branches snap, and Rick and Michonne turns toward them. Carl and I follow their gaze, his hand on his gun, and me reaching for my crossbow. We're all silent, waiting. When there's no other sound, Rick sits back down next to Michonne, and we release our weapons. I scan the woods, the shake my head at Carl. I saw nothing, and it worries me.

"We let people in," Rick says.

"We did," Michonne agrees. "So did the Governor."

Rick nods. "Yeah. It's always the same, isn't it? Don't get to know until we know. Maybe this place isn't even there anymore."

I look up when I hear a new voice. "Oh, dearie me," a man says, and I begin to recognize it. "You screwed up, asshole."

Michonne goes for her sword, but another man kicks it away. More men come out of the woods, as the leader of the claimers says, "You hear me? You screwed up. Today is a day of reckoning, sir. Restitution. A balancing of the whole damn universe."

Carl and I jump when there's a pounding on the window, and we turn to see one of the group members there, looking in at us. Carl puts his arm across me, silently telling the asshole that he has to go through Carl to get to me. In his ear, I whisper, "It's the claimers. The ones we ran from."

Outside, the leader says, "Shit, and I was thinking of turning in for the night on New Year's Eve." He laughs. "Now who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh? Ten Mississippi! Nine Mississippi! Eight Mississippi!"

"Joe!" a familiar voice barks. I gasp, turning to look through the windshield, not believing my ears. "Daryl," I whisper.

He walks in front of the truck, crossbow in front of him. Daryl looks the exact same as the last time I saw him, back at the prison before he went on the run. I thought I'd never see him again, and yet, here he is. "Daryl."

"Hold up," Daryl says. He glances inside the truck, eyes going wide seeing us in here.

"You're stopping me on eight, Daryl," the leader, Joe, says, and Daryl turns back to him.

"Just hold up," Daryl says, staring at Rick.

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothing to talk about," one of the claimers says.

"The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time," Joe says. "Say your piece, Daryl."

"These people, you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people," Daryl says.

"Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll, of course, have to speak for him and all 'cause your friend here strangled him in a bathroom."

"You want blood. I get it." Daryl drops his crossbow to the ground. "Take it from me, man."

"Daryl! Don't!" I exclaim, my voice frantic, and he holds up a hand to silence me. He turns to Joe, saying, "C'mon."

"This man killed our friend," Joe says. "You say he's good people. See, now that right there, is a lie. It's a lie!"

One of the claimers hit Daryl in the gut, and he doubles over, obviously in pain. "No!" I yell. "You bastards!"

I scramble out the side of the truck, Carl calling my name after me, as the two claimers knock Daryl into the truck. I throw a punch, but it misses its target. I fall into the truck after being punched, next to Daryl, and see the claimer from earlier pulling a fighting Carl out of the truck. "You leave him be!" Rick barks.

_"Don't fucking touch her!"_ Daryl yells as one of the claimers throws me to the ground. I struggle against him as he climbs on top of me, and go still when he presses a knife to my throat. "Daryl," I choke out. "Daryl, please."

The claimer removes his knife, slapping me. "Shut up, bitch."

He drops the knife about a foot or two away, trying to pin me down. I struggle against him, crying out and calling for Daryl. I reach for the knife, but it's just out of my reach. "Daryl!" I shriek, my voice an octaive higher with fear, as he undoes my belt, trying to get in my jeans. "Daryl!"

Daryl lunges for the claimer, elbowing the one that's holding him in the face. He tackles him off of me, like he tackled the walker off of Dale back on the farm. He throws a few punches, but is kneed in the gut. He falls to the side, while the second claimer kicks me to the ground. I curl up in a ball, not trying to stop him, just waiting for the pain to stop.

Meanwhile, a gunshot rings out, and I glance over to see Rick looking dazed and Joe reeling back. A well placed kick to head lands on me, and I black out.

* * *

"Clary!" I yell, seeing her go still after the bastard kicks her in the head. Another gunshot rings out, and I see Michonne lying on the ground now. I panic, thinking both she and Clary are dead, and fight the claimers with all that I'm worth. They knock me into the truck once again, and I now see Michonne starting to move. She's alive, lunging for the gun that Tony, one of the claimers, has. A gunshot rings out, and he drops to the ground. I'm kicked to the ground, landing next to Clary. They kick both of us, and I try to cover her body, still curled in a ball, with mine. I'l protect her until I breathe my final breath, until the very end.

* * *

As the ringing in my ears subsides, I struggle to get to my feet. Joe taunts me, wanting to "see what I got." I get to my feet, snarling, "Leave him be!"

Joe grabs me by the arms, keeping me from going anywhere. "What the hell you gonna do now, Sport?"

I snap.

I sink my teeth into Joe's neck, warm blood filling my mouth. But I don't care. I pull back, ripping out the flesh and arteries. I spit out his flesh as he falls to the ground, Michonne picking off one the claimer's beating Daryl. She aims her stolen gun at the other, but Daryl stops her. "No," he growls, his voice far more deadlier and terrifying than I've ever heard it. "He's mine."

I shiver in fear at his voice, which is something in itself considering I just killed a man by ripping out his throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him brutally kill the other, the one that had attempted to rape his sister.

Michonne turns her gun to the claimer on top of Carl, who pulls my son to his feet. He holds his knife to Carl's neck, saying, "I'll kill him. I'll kill him."

"Let the boy go," Michonne says quickly.

I pull the knife out of Joe's sheath, starting forward. "He's mine," I growl.

The sick fucker drops Carl, begging for his life. I plunge the knife into his chest, then into his neck. I don't stop, ignoring the claimer's cries of pain. I make damn well sure he dies slowly, painfully, for what he did to my boy.

* * *

I kneel next to Clary, my hand gently brushing her hair out of her face. It's still contorted in pain, her belt buckle still undone from the sick bastard. I gather her into my arms, ignoring the blood on my hands from where I beat the bastard to death. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see she's still breathing. "I'm so sorry, Clars," I whisper, a small break in my voice. "I'm sorry."

I sit with her limp in my arms, leaning against the truck. Michonne takes Carl inside the truck, her arm wrapped protectively around him. He looks at Clary, horrified, as he passes. I look up after a while, around at the remains of the claimers. While I sat with Clary, Rick took care of putting a knife through their brains, making sure they wouldn't come back. I should help him move the bodies, but I can't bring myself to leave my sister. "Daryl," Michonne says, stepping out of the truck. "I'll watch her."

I look up at her, nodding once. I redo Clary's belt before lifting her up, gently placing her in the truck with Carl and Michonne. I help Rick move the bodies, still waiting for my sister to wake up, and pray that she's alive when she does.

The next morning, I walk the perimeter, watching for any walkers drawn out by the shots last night. I return to find Rick sitting on the ground, leaning against the truck. I grab a water bottle and take my rag out of my back pocket, handing them down to Rick. "We should save it," he says. "To drink."

"You can't see yourself," I tell him, then gesture inside to Carl and Clary. "They can."

Rick takes the rag, trying to wipe the blood off his face and out of his beard. I sit down beside him, still feeling terrible about what happened to his boy, to my sister. "I didn't know what they were," I tell him.

Rick nods. "How'd you wind up with them?"

"I was with Beth. We got out together. I was with her for a while."

I look down, guilty about letting her get taken by some asshole in a car with a white cross on it. "Is she dead?" Rick inquires.

I shake my head. "She's just gone. After that, that's when they found me. I mean, I knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple. Stupid, but it was something. It was enough."

"And you were alone."

"Said they were looking for some guy. Last night, they said they spotted him. I was hangin' back, I was gonna leave, go lookin' for Clary. But I stayed. That's when I saw it was you four. Right when you saw me. I didn't know what they could do."

"It's not on you, Daryl," Rick tries to tell me, but I shake my head. "It's not. You being back with us here, now, that's everything." I look down. "You're my brother."

I look up at him, "Hey, what you did last night… anybody would have done that."

"No, not that," Rick says.

"Something happened. That ain't you."

"Daryl, you saw what I did to Tyreese. It ain't all of it, but that's me. That's why I'm here now. That's why Carl is. I want to keep him safe. That's all that matters."

"What you did… I'd've done the same thing, if it meant savin' her," I say, tilting my head to the truck to indicate that I'm talking about Clary. As I do, Michonne opens the door, leaning out. "Daryl," she says.

I immediately know it's about Clary. "Is she…"

"She's awake," Michonne says. I breathe a sigh of relief. I had been afraid that she was dead, all night. But she woke up. I lean in the truck, and see Carl helping his girlfriend sit up, arm around her shoulders. "Where's—" she starts, but stops as I open the door. "Daryl."

I have to take a step back to keep my balance as she throws her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. "Daryl," she whimpers, trying to choke back a sob. "Daryl."

I hug her, but I'm hesitant to touch her after last night. She lets out a sob, whimpering, "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I'm here," I tell her, sinking to the ground. We sit on ours knees, arms around each other as she sobs into my shoulder. "I'm here, Clars. And I ain't never leavin' you."

* * *

We walk down the tracks towards Terminus, Rick and Michonne taking point. Daryl and Carl walk in the middle, while I take the back. We stop when we come to a sign that fell down, Rick turning to look at us. "We're getting close," Daryl says. "Be there before sundown."

"Now we head through the woods," Rick says. "We don't know who they are."

We head into the woods, Daryl and Rick taking point. Michonne and I follow, and Carl brings up the rear. I turn around to look at him at one point, and catch him staring at my ass as I walk. Carl blushes, looking away, while I grin, amused. I look back ahead, and see a fence not far ahead. We step up to it, looking down into an empty courtyard. We watch for movement, and when we see none, Rick says, "We all spread out, watch for a while, see what we see, and get ready. We all stay close."

We nod and break off, and I follow closely behind Daryl. We walk in silence, and I gently rub the back of my head. It's still sore from where the claimer kicked me, and I have a splitting headache, like I got shit-faced drunk, but worse. Daryl sees me rubbing my head, and looks at me, concerned. "How's your head?"

"It feels like I got shit-faced drunk," I tell him, wincing slightly at the sound of our voices, despite them being quiet. "But worse. I feel like shit."

He turns me to face him, bending down so we're eye level. I blink, trying to keep him in focus. I feel dizzy, like I could fall over at any moment. I blink again, and the next thing I know, Daryl has his arms around me, keeping me up. "Jesus, Clary," he says. "You should've said something."

"What happened?" I ask.

"You started to fall over. Bastard gave you a concussion. Sit down before you fall down," he orders, helping me sit. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere, and keep your eyes open."

I nod, and Daryl disappears into the trees. A minute later, he returns with Rick, the two speaking quietly to each other. Rick kneels in front of me, taking a good look, then turns to Daryl, nodding. He looks back down at me. "Why don't you come back with me? I'm staying in one spot, by the fence. You can rest."

"I'm fine," I say, standing. I start to fall over, off balance, and Rick catches me. "Okay, maybe not."

"C'mon," Rick says, lifting me up. I immediately wrap my arms around Rick's neck, resting my head on his shoulder. He nods to Daryl as he passes, carrying me back to the fence. The leader sits me down on the ground, standing beside me, watching Terminus.

* * *

I look down at the young girl sitting at my feet, her back against the fence. Clary's so young, and yet, she's probably seen more shit than I have. She's a survivor, there's no doubt about it. A concussion won't stop her. Hell, I've seen her take an arrow to the side and be up walking around the same night.

"How'd it happen?" I ask her.

She looks up at me. "Daryl said one of the claimers kicked me in the head. I don't remember much after the bastard tried to..."

Clary's voice trails off, not wanting to say it. After the bastard tried to rape her. After another claimer tried to do the same to my son. I turn my attention back to Terminus, not knowing what to say. When I hear muffled sobs, I look down, and see that Clary's struggling to keep it together. I kneel next to her, gently putting an arm around her. Gently so as not to scare her, knowing after last night any contact with anyone other than Daryl would scare the living shit out of her. Clary leans into me, resting her head on my shoulder. "I'm scared," she whispers. "I'm scared, Rick. What if Terminus ain't safe? What if it's like Woodbury, all over again?"

"It won't be," I lie. I have my doubts about the place, even if I haven't seen anything suspicious. But she doesn't need to know that. Right now, all she needs is someone to make her feel safe. "It's gonna be fine. And hey, scared's good. It keeps you alive."

Clary lets out a sob, but she quickly stifles it, afraid a walker will hear her, or someone from Terminus. "Maybe if I hadn't left him alone," she whispers. "If I hadn't gone to fight with Daryl. Maybe he wouldn't've been—"

"You can't say that," I say, cutting her off. "Nothing would have changed it. If anything, it could've been worse."

"Nothing could be worse than seein' Carl hurt," Clary says, still shaking. "Or Daryl, Michonne, or you."

It's then that I know she still trusts me. Despite me banishing her and Carol, Clary still trusts me, still cares. "You're my family, and I don't to see any of y'all get hurt."

"We'll be safe," I tell her. I stand, and take a shovel, and the duffel bag full of weapons. I dig a hole big enough for it, and Clary places her crossbow, gun, and knife in the bag, pulling out another gun and a smaller knife to replace them. She straps the holster around her thigh, checking to see if the magazine is full. Clary puts the gun in the holster, and slips the knife into her boot. I exchange my Python for another handgun as Daryl approaches. He kneels next to Clary, whispering something in her ear. She nods, and he stands, looking at me. He doesn't say anything, so I say, "Just in case."

I bury the bag as we regroup, climbing over the fence. I climb over first, watching for any other survivors, and the others follow me into what could be enemy territory.

* * *

Daryl leads the way into a building, followed by Rick. Carl and I follow them, Michonne bringing up the rear. We enter a large room, where a woman sits, speaking into a microphone. Broadcasting the message of Terminus. "Sanctuary for all, community for all. Those who arrive, survive." Rick leads the way in, and we follow closely. At the other end, a small group of people stand over maps of the Georgia railroads. "Hello," Rick says, announcing our presence. "Hello."

All heads turn to us, except for a dark haired guy in his mid-twenties. "Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch," he says with a sigh. He turns to walk towards us, and the way he holds himself tells me that he's the leader. "You here to rob us?"

"No," Rick replies, his voice echoing through the station. "We wanted to see you before you saw us."

"Makes sense," the leader says. "Usually, we do this where the tracks meet." He clears his throat. "Welcome to Terminus. I'm Gareth. Looks like you've been on the road for a good bit."

"We have," Rick confirms. "Rick. That's Carl, Daryl, Clary, Michonne."

Gareth raises his hand in a wave. We say nothing. He says, "You're nervous. I get it. We were all the same way." He takes another couple steps closer. "We came here for sanctuary. That's what you're here for?"

"Yes," Rick says with a nod.

"Good. You found it," Gareth says. He looks over his shoulder. "Hey, Alex." Gareth turns back to us as another dark haired survivor starts forward. "This isn't as pretty as the front. We got nothing to hide, but the welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer." He glances over as Alex arrives. "Alex will take you, ask you a few questions. Uh, but first, we need to see everyone's weapons. If you could just lay them down in front of you."

We're all hesitant, and Rick is the first to oblige. "All right," he says.

He lays his gun down on the ground, and Gareth says, "I'm sure you understand."

"Yes, I do," Rick replies, laying his knife down. Carl lays his gun and knife down, Daryl his crossbow and knife, and Michonne her sword. I lay down my gun, but keep my knife in my boot, praying they won't pat us down. I keep my face expressionless, but my spirits fall when I see Rick holding up his arms. Gareth pats him down, and Alex pats Daryl down. "Hate to see the other guy," Alex says, referring to Daryl's bruises.

"You would," Rick says. Alex moves over to me, and I flinch when he starts to pat me down. Daryl catches it, and growls, "Don't touch her."

Alex immediately removes his hands, holding them up. "Sorry," he apologizes. Then, he asks, "Did they deserve it?"

"Yes," Carl answers, looking over at me as Alex starts to pat him down. Gareth faces Rick, saying, "Just so you know, we aren't those kind of people. But we aren't stupid, either. And you shouldn't be stupid enough to try anything stupid. As long as everyone's clear on that, we shouldn't have any problems. Just solutions."

Gareth walks off, leaving Alex and us behind. Alex picks up Michonne's katana, handing it back to her. She eyes him warily as he moves over to me, picking up my gun. Daryl glares at him, picking up his weapons before Alex can reach him. He hands Carl and Rick their guns back with a stupid grin on his face. "Follow me," he says.

He leads us out of the station, still grinning like an idiot. I don't trust him. "How long this place been here?" Daryl inquires.

"Since almost the start," Alex answers. "When all the camps got overrun, people started finding this place. I think it was instinct, you know? Follow a path. Some folks were heading to the coast, other's up north or out west."

I tune out what he's saying, paying attention to the details around me. A woman starts talking, Michonne questions them, but I don't pay any attention to them at all. Then, I see it. The orange hitchhiker's bag from when Rick, Michonne, Carl, and I went on a run to Kings County. In the background, some guy wears riot gear. Glenn's riot gear. He's here, somewhere. There's no way in hell he would leave the prison without his riot gear. Sitting at a table, a woman in an only too-familiar poncho, one that once belonged to Daryl. I turn my attention back to Alex as he hands Carl a plate of meat, and my eyes land on a chain that disappears into his pocket. If that chain doesn't belong to the pocket watch that Hershel gave Glenn, then I ain't a Dixon.

I glance back at Rick, only to find him already making his way forward. He knocks a plate out of his hands, grabbing the pocket watch as he puts a gun to Alex's head. We immediately raise our weapons, and I scan the courtyard for anyone with guns. "Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick demands.

The one in the riot gear is the only one with a gun. I scan the roof, looking for snipers. I spot one, and turn my gun towards him, knowing Carl has my back. "Where the hell did you get the watch?" Rick demands.

"You want answers?" Alex says, his voice sounding strangled. "You want anything else? You get 'em when you put the gun down."

"I see your man on the roof with the sniper rifle. How good's his aim? Where'd you get the watch?" When Alex doesn't answer, Rick barks, "Where'd you get the watch?!"

"Don't do anything!" Alex calls to the Termites with guns. "I have this! You just put it down. You put it down!" The sniper on the room lowers his gun, but I keep mine aimed at him. "You want to listen to me. There's a lot of us."

Rick lets out an annoyed sigh. "Where did you get the watch?"

"I got it off of a dead one. Didn't think he'd need it."

My heart skips a beat as he says that. Either he's lying, or he found Glenn, dead. But if he had been wearing the riot gear…

"What about the riot gear?" I demand, speaking for the first time since my break down in the woods. "The poncho?"

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop," Gareth lies. I don't turn to him, keeping my gun at the sniper on the roof. "Found the poncho on a clothesline."

"Gareth, we can wait," Alex says.

"Shut up, Alex," Gareth snaps.

"You talk to me," Rick says, his voice cold.

"What's there left to say?" Gareth inquires. "You don't trust us anymore."

"Gareth," Alex tries.

"Shut up," Gareth tells him.

"Gareth, please."

"It's okay, it's okay. Rick, what do you want?"

"Where are our people?" Rick growls.

"You didn't answer the question."

A gunshot goes off, and I fire at the sniper on the roof. He goes down, and we turn to run. Bullets hit the ground at our feet, forcing us to turn back to Terminus. I glance up to see another sniper has taken his place. We cover ourselves as bullets rain down around us, and turn and run, looking for an exit. We duck into a garage, but the door closes before we can reach the end, blocking an exit. A door is barred, eliminating that exit. It leaves one door open, and we duck through it.

We exit the building, running through yet another corridor. I don't miss all the bullet holes in the ground, in the cars, in the brick walls. This isn't the first time they've done this. "Get 'em off B!" comes a shout, and Daryl ducks to avoid being hit.

I return the fire, aiming two shots at the man on the roof. We run, and I nearly freeze when I see a pit full of skeletons. And they ain't walker skeletons. Rick grabs me by the arm, pulling me along. As we pass a boxcar, we hear banging and calls for help. "The hell?" Daryl inquires.

"Keep going!" Rick barks. We run into a room filled with burning candles and names written in chalk on the floor. We look around for a moment, catching our breath. "What kind of shit show did we drop into?" I ask.

"These people," Michonne says. "I don't think they're trying to kill us."

"No, they were aiming at our feet," Rick agrees.

"They're corralling us," I say. "Herding us to where they want us to be. Those bullet holes out there. The box cars. This ain't the first time they've done this."

"There," Rick says, pointing towards a door. We start towards it, but it's slammed closed. "You're right, Clary," Rick says as we run towards the only exit left open. "They're herding us like cattle."

As soon as we exit, bullets rain down on the ground in front of us. We run for the fence, but stop as men pop up, wielding guns. We stop, realizing that we're defeated. "Drop your weapons!" Gareth shouts from a nearby rooftop. "Now!"

No one makes a move to drop our weapons. "Do it or we'll shoot the girl," Gareth threatens.

Daryl immediately drops his crossbow, knowing they mean me. We all follow his lead, hesitantly. I don't remove the knife from my boot. "Ringleader," Gareth calls. "Go to your left. The train car. Go." Rick glances at the train car before looking back at Carl. "You do what we say, the boy goes with you. Anything else, he dies, and you end up in there anyway."

Carl nods once at his father, who then turns and walks towards the train car. "Now the archer," Gareth calls. Daryl looks at me. "I swear to god, we will kill the bitch."

"Go," I tell him. "I'll be right behind you. Until the very end."

Daryl nods once, following Rick to the train car. Gareth calls, "Now, the samurai."

She follows Rick and Daryl, the three of them standing in a line. "Stand at the door," Gareth calls. "Ringleader, archer, samurai. In that order."

Carl and I look at each other, then at our family. "My son," Rick calls.

"Go on, kid," Gareth says, releasing Carl. He looks at me as he slowly walks towards the ringleader, the archer, and the samurai. "I ain't goin' nowhere without her," Daryl calls.

"Dammit, Daryl," I mutter.

Gareth doesn't release me. "Ringleader," he calls. "Open the door and go in."

"I'll go in with them," Rick calls.

"Don't make us kill the kids now," Gareth calls. "Get goin', girl."

I start walking, following as fast as I can without running. I'm terrified right now, even if I don't show it. They're gonna kill my family. Rick opens the door, leading the way into our cage. Daryl and Michonne follow, and Carl pauses for a second at the bottom of the steps, allowing me time to catch up. Gareth doesn't say anything about it. "We'll be okay," he whispers, stepping into the train car.

My face shows my fear, I realize. I swallow, hardening my expression. _Act like Dally_, I think, remembering the characters in my favorite book, _The Outsiders._ Daryl takes me by the arm as soon as I reach the top step, putting his arms around me as he pulls me in. "I'm okay, Daryl," I tell him.

He releases me, but pushes me behind him when there's a thump from the opposite end of the train car. I hear footsteps, and immediately recognize them. I could cry as I hear him say, "Clary?"

"Glenn," I breathe, not hesitating to throw my arms around him. He hugs me back, looking at the others. "Rick?" he asks.

"You're here," Rick says, and I hug Glenn tighter, having worried that he was dead. "You're here."

I pull back from Glenn as I look at the others that came from his end of the train car. Bob, Sasha, and Maggie are the only ones that I recognize and know the names of. I recognize a girl with pigtails. She fought with the Governor, but I know she didn't fire a shot. Three other people—a girl with dark hair, a tall, muscular ginger, and a dude with a kick-ass mullet—stand behind them. I take a second look at the ginger—the way he holds himself makes me think he was in the Army at some point in his life. Rock of Ages—also known as kick-ass mullet—obviously wouldn't have made it this far if it weren't for the ginger. Makes me wonder who he is.

"They're our friends," Maggie says when she catches Rick and I staring at them. "They helped save us."

"Yeah," Daryl agrees. "Now they're friends of ours."

"For however long that'll be," Ginger says.

"No," Rick says with a shake of his head. I reach down, pulling my knife out of my boot. Rick nods at me, looking around at all of us. "They're gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out."

"Find out what?" Ginger inquires as Rick looks out the crack in the door, the light creating eerie marks on his face.

"They're fucking with the wrong people."

* * *

**The end of another book! What's going to happen next time for Clary and the group? How will she deal with seeing Tyreese again after the murder of Karen, and Carol after leaving her?**

**Anyways, this chapter's POVs are Clary (and she continues it after the first line break), then Daryl, Rick, Daryl, Clary, Rick once again, and Clary finishes it off with a wonderful "kicking ass and taking names despite being hurt" thing that she's so good at.**

**Until next time, bad bitches. Stay bad.**

***slyly quotes Twaimz***


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